Wings of Light
by NxnsxgnorsDxmon
Summary: After Sister Mary Eunice's death as her identity and the devil which once resided her body, the man of the cloth is more than determined to take in his hands the things in better direction. Jude's committed as a patient to Briarcliff.
1. New Life

John 1:5 

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 

It has been a handful of days since not only , known as the doctor of the science's discreet disappearance, but also his and Jude's favorite young, vulnerable nun, whose life was taken by the tender, lethal kiss of Shachath, taking with herself two souls. Mary Eunice's fragile soul and the devil's invincible one. Two sheer contrasts between the pure innocence, naivety, richness of virtuous and the fiendish evil, remorseless and unsacred sins. They were like comparison between light and dark, good and evil, vices and virtues, morality and immorality, war and peace.

The former sister of the church, whose clerical title, belongings and everything else which she once possessed were yanked from her holy hands, although there was only one thing she had even during her darkest and least cheerful days. The middle-aged lady has been a roller coaster of three entire trimesters of nausea, mood swings, somewhat visible body change by gaining extra pounds on some body parts which were once bony until the pregnancy solved her problem with her underweight, food cravings. A bump which carried the fresh, new life which was living inside her for months was on one hand good news for the future parents, whilst on the other hand bad news.

Indeed, they were good news for Jude and Timothy since they will welcome a family member in their small family, even if they were both together in this moment and the blonde hasn't utterly forgiven the love of her life for the betrayal and putting her through the mess which she has the least expected from him. From a man with the benevolent nature, known for his celibacy and took solemn vows for years by serving loyally the church until it was Jude, whom he gave his virtue and it wasn't the devil, who took it away at first, fortunately.

Remorses over his right hand's betrayal and speculated false hopes were opting to teach a lesson to the aspiring priest by persuading him what's the right and what's the better. They were like stern, unwelcoming teachers as he figured out by himself what was out of control for balancing his and Judy's lives as well.

The bad news for the future, yet young parents were eventually their unborn child, regardless if it's a girl or a boy mustn't be raised up in such place like a nut house, which was a residence for criminally insane lunatics, who wander around and their hysterical bewails might unconditionally affect their newborn baby. Even shortly before their love child's birth, consequently the Monsignor figured out it would be a better idea, besides wiser to get out of the madhouse not just one harmless, vulnerable soul, moreover the other creator of their creation, made of their flesh and blood.

The grim and distressing thoughts which whirled as a whirlpool in the patient's head, mingling it up with complex thoughts of what kind of a mother she's going to be to her one of a kind child and how blessed she's with Timothy, in spite of the blonde has lived for ages with the thought of being infertile and empty in the limbo. It was namely a God blessing for both of them. The bliss of being a parent were something like a new notion for Jude, herself, numbering her love interest whom she has a secret love affair.

"Waaaaahhhh!" After the final push of the former holy woman as she has spread widely her legs after pushing and the agonizing contractions were tormenting her weary body as its invisible, indestructible pain corrupted each body muscle with its scourge of fatigue and excessive pressure, hence, the newborn child's head just popped up from her core as Timothy was the sole visitor in her ward by helping her with laboring as his mammoth, creamy hands scooped the already born baby as it blubbered incessantly. High-pitched cries collided with the dull, grayish walls of Jude's cell as she couldn't help but allowing a couple of crystal, rejoiced tears roll down her palish cheeks. In the interim, her head pitched backward on the plain, white pillow as her lion ringlet of unkempt, nevertheless still fabulous old Hollywood honey curls were ruffled like garden of aureate flowers.

In the meanwhile, beaming smiles flashed upon their still youthful faces as Timothy cleaned the newborn by swaddling it a warm, cotton garment, thereafter handing it to Jude. Even if her hazelish-brown eyes lost its scintillating nuances which they possessed, they lastly glinted dew of joyful pools, flooding her frail eyelids which were puffy and fatigued.

"It's a boy!" The man of the cloth declared jubilantly as Jude had the opportunity to spend the first moments with her newborn son. The recurring high-pitched cries and squeals of their son verged to bleed the content parents' sensitive ears, jingling angelic anthems.

"Aww! Hello, my sweet baby boy!" The blonde was beyond elated of scooping in her petite, secure hands her ray of sunshine as its cries subdued in the vacuum, thanks to his mother's genial voice which was soothing him. Meanwhile, Timothy sat on the edge of Jude's bed by transfixing his chocolate brown eyes, which once glistened sparks of divine power, selfishness and fanatical brashness, brighter and jollier nuances were twinkling and twinkling like Christmas tree's lights without changing his mood. The both parents' hearts melted at the sight of their baby boy. "You're so handsome as your father." She complimented kindheartedly her son as Timothy couldn't suppress a substantially blooming content smile, distorted across his berry-coloured, damp lips. It was her first time to hold an infant in her hands especially in such doting, kindhearted way as if it's actually her child. Jude and Timothy indisputably quickly fell in love with their unnamed son by admiring his facial features.

As her honey brown eyes scanned the unnamed infant, subsequently she came to the conclusion their sweet ray of sunshine resembles equally the both parents by inheriting his mother's curly hair texture, reckoning the hazel orbs and perfectly-shaped lips, whereas on the other hand the nameless child possessed rather his father's ears, nose, eyebrows, milky as cream skin tone and chestnut hair as its sparse hair capped his soft as satin head.

"Isn't he just beautiful little ray of sunshine, is he?"

"For sure, he's! The most beautiful baby I've ever seen." The former woman of the cloth fussed as her lip curled as its mellow tone lingered on her tongue from being mesmerized by their nameless infant's ethereal beauty, whilst Timothy stroke gingerly, his head as his long, dexterous fingers caressed the mossy softness of his head's flesh, without averting his gaze away. "How are we going to name it?"

"Hmm, how about Elliott Henry or Edward Ralph?" She shifted her stare up to his deep chocolate brown pools as their eyes met, locking up his stare. The whisper died on her tongue as she was pensive, bewildered, ecstatic and uncertain at the same time. Pensive, bewildered and uncertain how to name their son. Whereas ecstatic, due to the fact, she was already doted on their creation even bewitched by its entire being.

In the interim, the young boy happily cooed to their parents by earning 2 gleeful gapes in awe as the Monsignor waffled between naming their son Elliott or Edward. Little did he know which name sounded better.

"I think Edward Ralph sounds better. How about you too, Jude?"

"I can't disagree there. Edward Ralph is a beautiful name!" She nodded humbly her head in agreement as she nuzzled Edward's nose as he giggled merrily. "Don't ya agree too, Edward Ralph? My precious?"

A couple of minutes as the baby snuggled in her mother's hands and embrace, consequently the older woman permitted her love interest to spend some time with Edward by handing the baby to him as he held him in his strong, affectionate hands by raking it with his fingers gently his plumpish cheeks as he lightly giggled with each touch, each delicate skin contact. What it was incredibly obvious was the already forming dimples on his babyish face.

"I'm your Daddy, little sweet prince! Don't ever forget who is truly loving you!" The member of the clergy's hands softened as its palms commenced building its slimy swamp lubricated them. Meantime the Bostonian contemplated the scenery of her traitor and love interest holding in his own hands Edward Ralph. She loved more than anything her newborn son, despite her immensely conflicting feelings she had for Timothy. Either loving or hating him was another question by measuring the tremendous respect and unconditional, potent love she had for him even after being through a blizzard of troubles, sluggishly passing forward as the steps were trudging, imprinting its steps on the sheeted ground with glacial blanket.

Afterwards Timothy planted a kiss on his son's forehead, a split second before handing it back to his biological mother to breastfeed him for the first time and subsequently rest safely in her arms in the wee hours of midnight, although the other patients were already gathered in their wards for extra good night's sleep and they were constantly guarded by some of the studious security guards, whose schedule included even a night shift instead of getting back at their homes to see their families, wives and children.

Frank survived the attack he was victimized with slitting his throat via Mary Eunice's bare hand with the letter opener after locking up in the solitary back the murderous Santa Claus, Leigh Emerson, who escaped the asylum months ago as the carte blanche was a déjà-vu for him. The former Irish cop suffered for days by healing his physical attack, despite his concern over Jude's unpredictable pregnancy left him speechlessly a bolt from the blue.

During the months of the first three trimesters which were arduous for her, resurrected his immense concern as the middle-aged man found some of his questions answered, in spite of Jude has never confessed to her favorite employee who's the father of the unborn child then. Even when Frank didn't receive the answer to his question about the biological father of the former sister of the church's baby that was inside her bump, consequently he thought, pondered the greater chance of the unborn infant's father would be the Monsignor since it was apparent how close he was with his right hand. Furthermore, the former police officer, himself, wasn't very fond of the Monsignor and felt scorching zealousy over their platonic, discreetly romantic and more than professional relationship which united them as a bond. He was indeed doted on his boss and all he hankered was not seeing Judy impotent and hurt since her former life of a licentious nightclub jazz singer webbed her in a venomous spiderwebs of trouble, thanks to the one-night stand lovers who used her youthful, insatiable body for their own needs, besides her inebriety caused her double trouble though it temporarily numbed the pain and apocalyptically colliding asteroids of heartbreaks and sorrow as she was feeling nothing. Even worse, fearing of falling in love and being more than just a lover to the men.

"Jude, I'm arranging your release tomorrow the morning," In the interval, the younger man earned Jude's enquiring, incredulous piercing glare into him, which flamed her eyeballs with its blistering heat as they tickled, causing itchy motions reluctantly. The baby boy rested safely, peacefully in her arms by falling asleep in his mother's warm, protective embrace. "And I promise I will get you and Edward out of Briarcliff at any cost." Initially, the blonde didn't believe her former colleague's exclaimation as a sarcastic, hoarse chuckle danced on her tongue like symphony.

"The cruelest thing of all, Timothy, is false hope!" Judy heaved a sigh from the top of her brittle, enervated lungs as she couldn't move almost any single muscle of her body after the morbid contractions, pushes and laboring process. A grotesque frown curled up in the corner of her naturally rosy-coloured lips.

"I promise!" Timothy declared once again, seconds before walking away from the ward by peppering the newborn with loving, tender kisses on the temple and plump cheeks as he cooed happily. "Good night and sleep tight to both of you! See you tomorrow!"

"Good night, Timothy! Sleep tight too and see ya in the morning!" Thereafter the man of the cloth strolled up to the ward's old, rusty iron door by opening the doorknob, hence, shutting the door by locking the patient inside the cell with the baby boy.

After the door slammed, all of a sudden Edward began blubbering in his mother's arms as even the faintest unpleasant sound was ringing horrors in his ears.

"Waaaaaahhhh!"

"Shu, shu, shu, my little angel! Mommy's got ya." The middle-aged mother attempted to alleviate the little boy by kissing his forehead and cheeks just seconds before starting to unbutton her patient's rigid, threadbare stone blue gown by giving a breastfeed try as his famine was exceedingly evident. "Everything's going to be alright, baby boy! Mommy will feed ya now and probably yar Daddy will get us out of this hellhole as soon as possible." Jude rocked her son as his blubbers subjugated, thanks to the mellowness, softness as velvet her voice, the soft, doting maternal caresses as if it felt like paradise. Her slim, long fingers mildly brushed his sparse dark hair by admiring its softness, without taking her eyes of her creation.

After she undid a couple of bland buttons of her patient robe, throughout the advancing time she breastfed for the first time her sweet ray of sunshine and thereafter buttoned back the buttons all over again as the ultimate depletion of her physical and mental stamina peaked, reckoned is its final motion as she unwillingly shut her eyelids by collapsing back on the pillow as Edward Ralph's face nestled in the crook of his mother's neck as they drowned themselves in the slumber's journey. Their hearts were throbbing lightly, composedly in their chests.

Tomorrow was awaiting her a big day with just one promise, blocking her path of hesitancy as she had the ultimate opportunity, whether believing it or considering it as a lie, enveloped in syrup as much as it looked. A couple of questions resurfaced in her mind as if they were icebergs at last.

For example, the former holy woman wondered if he eventually is going to pay a visit to her ward in the wee hours of the morning and keep his promise. Does he genuinely meant it?

**Author's Note: I'd like candidly to thank everybody from the bottom of my heart for taking their time to read the very first chapter and being ready to unfold the true wings of the light. **

✞ ****What are your actual first impressions of our first three protagonists? ** **✞

✞ ****Do you think Timothy will keep his promise to grant his rare bird its pearly deserved freedom along with their baby son?** **✞

✞ ****Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! ** **✞


	2. Breaking Free

\- The next morning -

A several hours passed after Timothy's whispering promise as his inner voice echoed in his right hand's head as radioactive waves were signalizing her by thinking twice whether to believe his promise or on the contrary repudiate it as if another false hope was delivered to her. False hope by deluding her to be jailed behind Briarcliff's dull, lifeless walls with the other patients, who're destined until their days were reckoned and what she doubtlessly feared was losing her son Edward Ralph by sent in an orphanage, although the unconditional love his parents had for him especially his mother. Cracks gapped her mind in the wee hours of the morning, even during her peaceful slumber with her newborn son which nestled in her tight, warm, maternal embrace by leaving tracks of hesitancy.

What it was oblivious for the former sister of the church was her bed sheet was inundated with fresh blood as its lake of blood trickled her inner thighs shortly after laboring.

The morning was embraced by the eloquent, merry songs of the chirping birds outside by encircling the old, unwelcoming mental institution's façade with their lovely, monotonous songs, whereas a tad autumn breeze blew outside.

As soon as the former nun woke up, due to her ray of sunshine's sniveling which swam in the cold, barren cell of hers, the sudden clink of old, rusty keys' in the women's wing hallway wasn't audible for Jude as she was rather focused on alleviating Edward. Her heart raced as if Edward interrupted her slumber by opening reluctantly without blinking for a single second her drowsy hazelish-brown eyes, glinting criminal disquietness by keeping her wits about her peckish son.

"Shu, shu, shu, sweetie! Everything is alright! Mommy will feed ya, my little sweet ray of sunshine!" The blonde rocked her baby son into her scooped elvish, secure hands by peppering his temple and cheeks with loving, tender kisses until her cell's rusty door cautiously, slowly opened, as a result of one more uninvited visitor paying a visit to Jude.

"Good morning, rare bird!" The man of the cloth just emerged in the corner of her honey brown orbs by meeting her neutral, glassy gaze as a grotesque, emotionless frown cracked upon her pale, dry complexion, highlighting her recurring hostility to him even when she opted to be as amicable as possible the last night when she gave a birth to their bastard child. The both former lovers' facial expressions contrasted. The younger man's beaming, content smile of seeing his rara avis with their son was a genuine, roseate paradise, encompassed by angels and servants of God to guard him against the searing devils, remorseless sins as hell's scourge. In spite of his heart ached of beholding Jude and Edward in despaired condition since Jude's current status of being imprisoned patient by figuring out how deplorable eventually was, howsoever, a mended gap of his pierced heart was melting at the sight of the single mother with their son.

Inevitable irritation at the mention of the word rare bird which he addressed her proudly and happily the past months when they were collaborating in the church and mental hospital's duties until it wasn't Jude's favorite young nun and the elder blonde's foe, who were responsible for manipulating even turning the Monsignor against his right hand without an ado.

"Good morning, Timothy! Could ya please wait for a while to feed Edward?" She refrained of bickering with her former lover when he approached her patient's bed by seating on the edge of it as she was undoing her patient robe's gown buttons in swift motion by swinging continuously the infant, in order to another blubber even snivel linger on his frail lungs and tongue ever again especially when he's in sure and secure arms.

"Of course, Jude!' Pristine calmness vomited in his honeyed voice as Jude was about to breastfeed Edward, whilst Timothy's chocolate brown irises which were fueled with pure innocence, warmness and vulnerability as a virgin as they wandered at each corner of the sufficiently expansive ward by chewing his bottom berry-coloured lip. It was the day when he's more than determined to rescue not just one blameless, rich of innocence soul. Even 2 souls, who are incarnations of the divine goodwill and sinless. The cold climate assaulted the middle-aged woman's mossy, creamy flesh as goosebumps sweep every inch of her exposed flesh. "Let's not forget your packed belongings and your documents are already in my cab. I will wait for you to feed our little sweet angel."

At this moment, the older woman heard him when he mentioned her paraphernalia and her patient documents were stored in his vehicle, in order to get her out of Briarcliff's morbid madness which cast back on her appearance. No response and reaction were followed after his utterance as Judy was utterly focused on Edward by feeding him since he was exceedingly esurient after collecting the necessary nutrients during his sleep shortly after his birth.

Suddenly the pervasive stench of blood reached the priest's sensitive nose by sniffling inwardly the suspicious stench was inescapable for such cell especially in a ratty madhouse. Initially, he commenced to wonder from where it emanated until he came to the conclusion his former lover gave a birth to their baby son the night before, besides his biology classes about women's anatomy and the pregnancies were giving him a hint of the knowledge he has gained almost 2 decades ago.

Shortly after Jude finished with feeding the infant, all of a sudden the tangy miasma of blood caused urgent panic, cooking inside her as her face flushed entirely as its sanguine heat crawled underneath her cheeks' skin by bowing lightly her head by resting her forehead against Edward's one, nuzzling his button nose, factly, opting to disregard the embarrassing situation she was located. Her panic spawned Timothy's abrupt concern, imprinted on his youthful, handsome complexion.

"Judy, are you alright? You seem more than panicked."

"Oh, Timothy! I'm so ashamed." The former woman of the cloth huskily, glassily muttered out by rolling her eyes as she got from the bed and unwrapping the cotton blanket as she held Edward.

"It's going to be alright. You should wait for a while as well. I will change the bedding in a jiffy, but first of all I don't want you to be in trouble as you should be in the car with Edward as I will delay for a split minute, therefore getting back in the vehicle by driving to Father Malachi to formally resign myself from the church and its duties. Okay?" In the meanwhile, the ashamed inmate was snuggling her sweet little ray of sunshine in her scooped arms in a warm, protective embrace by planting a kiss on Edward's cheek, whereas Timothy took out his paletot since the days were as cold, windy and rainy as the autumn's days were dying and the winter ones will dawn in a matter of handful of weeks only.

"It's going to be fine, my baby boy!" The little boy cooed to his mother as his hand extended to reach his mother's jawline by tracing it clumsily with his tiny, plump fingers, admiring her ethereal grace.

As soon as Timothy took off his coat, he strolled up to Jude by wrapping it around her weightless, slender body by ushering her to follow him as she accompanied the holy man, who opened the rusty, creaky ward door by stepping aside, permitting Jude to set a foot in the long, profound hallway of the unholy by glimpsing attentively in the both directions, incessantly, faintly rocking the love child in her arms by alleviating him to not bawl his eyes. Meantime she pursed her lips in coy, girlish manner. Afterwards Timothy discreetly closed the ward's door without drawing further attention.

Fortunately, nobody wasn't wandering in the asylum's corridor as the Monsignor, himself, was actually the one who guided his former lover to the exit. A velvet whisper verged to be vomited by lingering on his tongue as his face was alongside her ear.

"If somebody starts questioning why you're in the car, think of something to lie or something else."

It didn't take a long to pace in the women's wing hallway by walking away as the other inhabitants of the mental institution was oblivious to them a patient was being escorted to the exit, thanks to the Monsignor's help, whereas the newborn boy dangled clumsily his wee arms, bracing his mother's neck by snuggling in her bosom as the both former lovers were departing for the vehicle even to Father Malachi's place.

As soon as their footsteps invisibly tracked to the exit as if they left traces on the sand until they vanish, Timothy's shoes clicked against the cement flooring as he was holding the door Jude, although the security guards were gone, fortunately. If they were guarding the front door of the old, grandiose building, on the contrary, they would stop the riots even beginning to question over Jude's escape which was plotted by the administrator.

"Phew! No security guards!" The blonde murmured as its murmur hugged her dry tongue as they were passing through the front door, thereafter imposing the massive stone stairs as luckily almost nobody crowded the grand yard.

Once they imposed the massive, Timothy resumed with escorting Jude to his black cab as her frail skeleton was almost giving up, in fact, she gave a birth the last night and the hours of rest were as an average goodnight sleep only. The holy man's free hand lowered to his obsidian slacks by delving in its pocket by surveying for the keys until his long, dexterous fingers dabbed something harder, rustier by yanking them promptly as he was unlocking his car's doors by opening the passenger's back seat door for his right hand, holding it as she seated with their love child. The coat yet shielded the blonde and the infant's bodies against the cold, chilling climate, though little did Jude know what day it was today. After the orderlies and nuns were equipping her violently, relentlessly with heavy medicaments, her mind was nothing than a mess, besides the barbaric, aberrant electroshock therapy, which consequences were worse than the heavy medicaments which she was being given. Hazy even diaphanous memories of her past and other events which took place in the past were fading as if she resembled a brainless zombie, whereas her memories ebbed in the limbo. At last but not least, the middle-aged mother didn't know for what to mourn over more. Over her past as its memories were vague at this moment or by the way she's treated as a guiltless patient, who was imprisoned against her will. That was the question.

"Jude, as I promised I'll be right back in a few minutes by cleaning your bed and getting rid of the old mattress! Just don't leave the car as I'm saying now and everything is going to be okay, okay?" He bended forward against her as his mammoth, unarguably smooth and warm hand pushed stray, unkempt strands of her angelic halo golden ringlet of old Hollywood curls which hung down to her back by tracing with fingers her forehead as sore scars of the electroshock therapy were impacted, incarnating dreadful, abominable memories. Their stares met as a small, soothing smile cradled his berry-coloured, damp lips in a crescent shape by planting a tender kiss on Jude's desolated, lukewarm cheek as she abided paralyzed even spellbind by its cheek kiss.

She just nodded humbly, vaguely with her head, affirming his words by keeping her promise to stay in the car until his return by slamming the passenger back door by retreating up to the former tuberculosis hospital for a split minute.

When the former nun was all alone in the car with nobody else than her sole medicine for her ultimate felicity, namely her baby son, subsequently her hazelish-brown eyes shifted to Edward's plumpish, flushed face by inspecting studiously, gingerly his facial features once again after his birth, admiring his indisputable beauty as he has inherited marvelous facial features from his parents uniformly. Her slim, still trembling fingers caressed his sparse, soft chestnut hair by tracing them down to his button nose, pinching it lightly as he giggled absently, impulsively.

"Look at you, little handsomer! You're as handsome as yar fathah." Soft and merry as satin caution dallied on her tongue as if wine-stained breath pinched lightly the surrounder's complexion. "I love you more than anyone would love you in this world." A loving, delicate kiss scooped his temple by her soft, dry lips.

Perhaps the silver-tongued, enraptured and tedious twittering songs of the birds as if the nature's symphony was playing, exposing its genuine hues of the tunes which followed its composed rhythm were encompassing the unwed mother with her bastard son by relishing the loneliness with him. Her brittle heart's gaps were thronged with warmness and love at the sight of her peacefully asleep son, who rested securely in the middle-aged lady's arms. Jude's honey brown pools couldn't be averted of her ray of sunshine by cooing quietly, softly to him, although his slumbering condition. It was her Achilles' Heel as her potent, interminable love she had for him. Even more the wind's play outside as it blew the huge trees' crowds as scourge of crispy leaves were tumbling down by blanketing the ground with a rich carpet of leaves in a variety of colours.

The sky was flecked with grayish, solid clouds as they insinuated the impending storm and rain invading the small city of Massachusetts for the rest of the day or a handful of hours only.

All of a sudden, in the interval, the sound whose source was clicking shoes were approaching the cab by distracting immediately Judy's attention by noting Timothy getting in his car by buckling his belt, turning to the former woman of the cloth by making sure if she's alright.

"Is everything alright, Jude? Did somebody try to question why were you there?"

"Everything is fine, Timothy! Nobody did." The former sister of the church replied dryly as she bit her bottom, plump lip by casting a mere, jaded look at him by bowing her head.

"Alright, Judy! Now before driving to my owned property in Vermont, we should drive to Father Malachi as I will announce my official resignation of the church." His colossal hands were on the steering wheel by spinning it as soon as his car engine started as it whirred, building immense ounce in her eyelids as they were heavier with each advancing moment.

During their forthcoming destination up to Father Malachi, the older woman was chanting mellow lullaby, humming to her newborn son as her hoarse voice was vaguely improving once the lullaby zinged her vocal caverns which were inéluctably audible for the holy man, who was utterly focused on the driving process as soon as his car was leaving Briarcliff's area by gliding the Boston cement motorways in the countryside's fields.

Furthermore the member of the clergy wondered from where Jude possessed such a breathtakingly eloquent voice.

Suddenly lighting bolts jolted down as they shook the ground, bearing a resemblance earthquake which woke up the little boy from the peaceful kipping as he squealed in murderous panic, resuscitating Jude and Timothy's concern as the former lovers' hearts throbbed heavily in their frail ribs.

"Shu, shu, shu, sweet little boy! It's just a lighting bolt. Everything is fine." The blonde attempted to soothe Edward by rocking him in her embrace by peppering his temple with doting, velvet kisses.

"It looks like our little angel is afraid of the storm!" The high-pitched snivels subdued as they were no longer floating like radioactive waves, giving a birth to the apocalyptic turmoil. In the meanwhile, the younger man exclaimed mildly blissfully by trying to increase Jude's spirits, although her bitterness and lack of emotion, imprinted on her pale, porcelain as a feeble ghost complexion. "Just imagine how he's going to sleep in the middle of the night during the big, fat storm." Jude continuously cradled Edward without an ado by shushing harmonically.

No response. No action responded in the barrens. The silence whose somber, waxen rays dispersed by overspreading inside the vehicle as if the ebon taciturnity was consuming, muting every peeled word, every laughter, every sniffle, every cry, every whine. Literally every sound.

"J-Jude?" As soon as he halted on a red light, he turned again to his right hand by noting her unconscious condition as she was already conked as her eyelids and body muscles no longer can bear the natural circumstances which the giving birth process produced. Timothy lastly realized she was already asleep with their little sweet ray of sunshine, scooped in her protective arms as he couldn't help but smile in awe by falling in love even more with Edward and Jude. "You're so beautiful, my rare bird and Edward! Why didn't I get you out of the snake pit earlier when you were still in your Mommy's tummy?" The almost ex-priest felt mist depression consuming him, due to the fact he profoundly regretted over his late determined decision by getting his rara avis out of Briarcliff shortly after their love child emerged in this world, via her womb by gliding slowly by escaping her bump where he populated for straight nine months.

Little did he know why his conscience, which was plagued with borderless guilt for months, he does 9 months later after their child is already in this cruel, cold world, polluted with the humanity's hellish manners of destroying slowly but surely the world, itself.

What if otherwise Timothy rescued Jude much earlier from Briarcliff's morbid, bashing terror? Will his guilty conscience for blindly believing her foes like Doctor Arden, known as a former Nazi war criminal who emigrated in different country with completely different biography and name as if they were fake, their once favorite possessed juvenile sister of the church, Sister Mary Eunice and the vicious serial killer, known as the murderous Santa Claus, Leigh Emerson, heal even revamping the gaps of significant mistrust, mindless betrayal and unrequited love? Is it even possible for a second chance and not permitting the gravity of the atonement otherwise lost its balance by elongating the rusty,reinforced chains of its chances of their mutual atonement?

Waterfall of questions splashed in the shore of his mind as the crucial ones resurfaced even in the shallowest parts of the shore.

Afterwards he turned to his direction as soon as the green light shone by keeping on with his impending destination up to Father Malachi by taking him a several minutes.

An hour later, after the juvenile, aspiring man of the cloth formally declared to his tutor about his resignation of the church and its ecclesiastical duties by no longer being the administrator of the most notorious mental institution in the entire state, he was officially a mere citizen as his taken solemn vows since being part of the church and its grave responsibilities were just like dandruff, a trace of his past life. His past life as a priest.

At first, the elder member of the church was beyond leery when an articulation behind his motives of fleeing the church and the facility were for better since two taintless, innocent souls were ultimately under his control and living an ordinary life as a man with his own needs of loving, lusting, being intimate and so forth. Moreover, Father Malachi wasn't very fond of the former promiscuous nightclub singer since she joined the church by rescuing herself from the darkness of insanely boozing the sinful, sweet alcohol, getting laid with one-night stand lovers and singing in local nightclubs, in order to live a better life especially as a nun.

Subsequently Timothy carried on with the final journey which was namely his, Jude and Edward's home.

A handful of hours driving without stopping were as weary as nettling of some irresponsible drivers or otherwise those type of drivers, who enjoyed rather the higher, the more dynamic speeds. In the interim, the blonde and the infant were still asleep, relishing their kip altogether.

When they were eventually in Vermont as the Boston's scene was dying even vanishing, especially in the younger man's chocolate brown orbs' corners as they were ultimately focused on his way to his owned property which he bought with his own family's fortune when he emigrated in the USA a couple of years ago.

Lightly scintillating sun rays zapped everything below by illuminating partly Jude, Timothy and Edward's as white as cream faces, despite the swarm of clouds which almost concealed the sun as if it was precisely outnumbered in the sky. The wind wasn't flaring as its invisible, reckless hem by blowing every surrounding as the natural spirits were calling from everywhere.

In the meantime, what the former member of the clergy's sensitive ears was as honed as bat's ones when the stirring sound of Jude as a casual yawn fled her oral caverns, whereas the young boy was yet slumbering peacefully in his mother's arms without rendering any sound by drawing the both adults' attention in no time.

As soon as the former sister of the Roman Catholic church rubbed reluctantly her drowsy eyelids, at first her vision seemed blurry as if she has been overdosing doggedly, restlessly as its haziness bedimmed her hazel eyes.

An optimistic, sympathetic smile hoofed across his berry-coloured lips as if they were soaked in relieve and glee, due to the fact Jude's awake at last and he has the opportunity to give her an explanation to their current location.

The blonde shook faintly her head as her vision's blurriness was fading away, ebbed its effect until she wore flabbergasted, dumbfound look on her complexion by studying the surroundings which encircled them during their driving destination up to his owned mansion, located in Vermont's outskirts.

"W-Where are we?" Whisper tugged her tongue.

"In Vermont. We need a few minutes until we're home. Don't be so anxious, Jude!" The former lover clarified calmly which caused Jude to arch an eyebrow in bracket form.

Something as an utterance which she craved to utter than anything to persuade her former lover everything is fine, howsoever, the heavy medicaments and exhaustion were responsible for letting it die as if the imminent exclamation would be the newborn one and it was miscarried, due to her condition.

"Timothy?"

"Yes, Jude?"

"N-Nothing! I-I just wanted to thank you for getting me and Edward out of this place." The middle-aged lady stuttered in a raspy voice as if it bears semblance to purling, affecting the motion of her neck in its spelling of each syllable. Smugness highlighted upon the former holy man's facial features, especially biasing his crescent shaped, alleviated smile, lighting up his ego and heart as its everlasting flame blazed inside his chamber.

Even the most compact fragment as an imminent step in achieving a mutual redemption was emphasized in its notion of Jude's gratitude and Timothy's kept promise.

**Author's Note: Of course, Jude earned her own freedom along with their little ray of sunshine!**

✞ ****What do you think about the second chapter? ****✞

✞ ****Do you think Timothy and Jude will have fierce struggles to repair their tremendously toxic relationship, in spite of their persistent attempts?** **✞

✞ **Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! **✞


	3. Home Sweet Home

🌙 _Isaiah 32:18_🌙

🌙 _My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest. _🌙_  
_

Several minutes elapsed as the car's engine was incessantly whirring and whirring as Jude was lightly rocking her sweet ray of sunshine, who was peacefully nestled into her arms as if a Guardian Angel, sent from God protected him from every vice and vile sin of the world, the cab suddenly halted in front of Victorian style iron gates of a privately owned property in the outskirts of Vermont.

"You should wait in a jiffy to unlock the gates." The former holy man promised by opening his cab's door, slamming the door as he was approaching the Victorian style iron gates by taking off his slacks' a rusty miniature key with which he unlocked the padlock by unwrapping the old, rusty chain which braced the dark polished gates, in order to not let robbers and other leery strangers invade the property as the owner isn't roaming around. In the meanwhile, Jude nodded modestly her head, confirming his words by unwrapping lightly the coat which blanketed her baby son's small body as the suddenness of his eyelids' aperture mildly startled her.

"Ah, here ya are, baby boy! Did you sleep well?" Judy posed the question by pinching lightly Edward's button nose as he giggled jubilantly into her arms as his reply was readily evident. In spite of the fact that Edward was just two days old newborn which was the crucial reason why he couldn't speak and utter any word except giggling, squealing and cooing, his mother could easily comprehend every notion of his body language, manners and high-pitched cries even soft coos which tickled his oral caverns by expressing whether his famine, having nightmares in his slumbers, disliking or liking something. "That means good. Well, ya are going to sleep in your bassinet once we're home, but we're eventually at home." Meantime, Timothy got in the car after unlocking the padlock and opening widely by spreading each wing by allowing wider framed bodies especially vehicles pass through the gates as he turned his cab as its engine buzzed and buzzed, causing a tad ounce building gradually in Judy's frail eyelids, menacing her to fall asleep within a handful of minutes as if the demon of the sleep haunted her, shadowing her cells which kept her awake.

"Did Edward sleep well?" The younger man enquired as his mammoth hands worked on the steering wheel, keeping his voice as calm and blissful as possible as if a concerned father spoke, parking his car in the grand yard of the privately owned two story mansion.

"He did! He didn't have any nightmares for now."

"Excellent! What do you plan to do after I take the things into the house?"

"Urm, probably take a shower, eat something and get some sleep." Once the former woman of the cloth got from the car as Timothy was taking things into the house by unlocking the front door as it was kept locked for years, at the moment, Jude was reassuring Edward by lulling to him a soft, melodious lullaby as it jingled angelic, sacred hymns into his ears as her honey brown orbs' glance transformed into transfixed gape at the two story mansion which stood several feet away from her as if she was just an ant, compared to a human foot. Her jaw dropped as if she has seen a ghost recently passing past her in a pitch-black room, consumed by the profoundest hush ever.

"Well, I'm going to make something for you to eat as you seem feeble." In the interim, the former holy man opened the car's luggage carrier door by hefting the box with Jude's paraphernalia by carrying it up to the mansion. A slight, promising smile cracked upon her complexion, highlighting the motion of being touched as he took an initiative to participate in taking care of her.

The middle-aged mother heard her former lover's words though her ultimate attention was focused on the façade by scrutinizing it.

High quality bricked outer walls shielded the mansion's isolation. Big, nonetheless dirty glassed windows added atmosphere to the mansion. The roof seemed extraordinarily stable for eventual rainy days, blizzards and strong winds. A porch with lacquered wooden planks flooring were linked to the front door as a small terrace on the first flooring.

The yard was as expansive as a castle's one as if regal family actually populated the property. Opulent flowerbeds of lilacs, lavender, roses, tulips, marigolds were flooding the soiled parts. Gardenias of pears, apples, cherries and peaches were adorning the yard. Last but not least, crispy in variety of colors, flimsy leaves sheeting the ground, forming a royal autumn carpet. The mansion's rooms which were linked with the balconies gave a majestic ambience.

For how long she hasn't seen such a resplendent, awe-inspiring place? It bears a semblance of a genuine paradise as glimmer of misty misery, heavenly bliss and awe flickered up its lights into her irises. Everything else which encompassed her as surroundings were oblivious to her by catching her off guard, due to the palace that admired since she first laid eyes on.

Masculine, heavy steps echoed in the yard shortly after Timothy exited via the front door by noting his former lover gaping without averting her gape from the mesmerizing mansion.

"Jude? Judy?" The former member of the church tootled up to the older woman with their son by mumbling a question, snapping her out of her train of thoughts as she timidly shifted her gaze to him without an ado. "Your things are already inside the house."

"Huh? I'm so sorry for not hearing you. May ya repeat again, Timothy?"

An uneasy sigh flared his lungs by zinging his berry-coloured lips upon his parchment face.

"Your things are inside the house. You can finally enter and make yourself at home." The younger man ushered Jude to follow him as she held the baby by lurching up to the porch as Edward was as quiet as a metaphor. Moreover, when Timothy opened the front door by holding it for Jude, he noticed her lurching symptoms emanated from her despaired condition by abiding patient and hospitable when it comes up to her condition, regardless how physically enervated she was.

Silence plagued as it pestiferous disseminated like misty fog as Edward was cooing in honeyed voice to his mother as her light, timid steps trod inside the corridor. Once the former nun entered inside her former lover's mansion, she didn't feel comfortable in somebody else's property at all.

The hall including the lacquered in cherry wood stairway for the second floor were richly adorned with a coat hanger, big and tall with a wooden frame, crystal mirror. An antique, tall clock incessantly ticktocks floated in the corridor. A handful of doorless door frames were linked to the hall for the kitchen and the living room.

The mansion, itself, had two bedrooms, one children's room, one kitchen, one living room, one bathrooms, one attic and one library, reckoning the balconies, linked to some rooms.

The middle-aged unwed mother scanned the corridor in a jiff without any waffling as Timothy gently removed the coat of her frail skeleton which was tightly tucked once in it, in order to absorb physical warmness which she longed at first immediately after getting out of the mental hospital's walls.

Her jaw dropped as if she has seen the real heaven which was past her vision with her slightly blurry vision, nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip.

Little did Timothy know what was exactly railing as a locomotive of thoughts railroaded her mind especially after everything dreadful he had done to her after her foes blinded him as the truth was invisible or perhaps overlooked as a distant memory.

Did she detest him? Did she forgive him? Did she give him a second chance, or it was a third wheel at the moment until the time tells?

"Jude?" He caught her off guard, benevolently smiling to her, masking his concern by reinforcing it with bare sympathy, painted on his still youthful and handsome face. "What do you plan to do at first?"

"Urm, take a shower! But hold on a sec," She reluctantly paused as her lip curled as a wave as their eyes met, sealing his gaze with hers. "Who's going to bathe the little angel and change his diapers?"

"You mustn't be afraid about Edward. I will take a good care of him while you're being busy with a fresh shower or hot bath. Just to warn you, if you need me or something, shout or find me in the other bathroom! You can find your bath towel, hanged on the door of the bathroom upstairs." She nodded plainly, affirming his words in meek manner. "Good luck with your bath or shower!"

Her head nodded as her figure aimed her upstairs as her frail, mildly trembling hand by holding the staircase railing as the former nun's hand journeyed until she imposed the stairway for the second floor by heading towards the bathroom by shutting the door behind her as soon as she entered, locking up herself.

The bathroom where she temporarily resided wasn't as huge as it appeared in some mansions. At least, it was cozy, welcoming with light bathroom furniture adorned it.

The blonde hesitated by choosing between the shower and the bath as her inner voice exhorted me to take a bath since it has been a long time when her body has sunk in the bathtub's marble figure. The hot, boiling bath water motionlessly cradling her petite body as the high temperature of the pooled bathtub fundamentally palpated her body muscles, relaxing them as if human hands were massaging each inch of her flesh by starting from the nape of her neck down to her toes and feet. It personated a nostalgia crossing across her mind.

As soon as the middle-aged woman stripped off each garment which hugged her slender body including her pair of plain white lingerie by standing beside the empty bathtub as naked as a newborn, her ailing hand sluggishly slithered down to the faucet by filling the tub with pool of warmness by noting in front of the bath cosmetic products such as two soaps, a handful of shampoos and two sponges.

A minute lapsed after the bathtub was gradually being filled with much warmer water as Judy tested it by herself with a forefinger, maneuvering her to join the bath by getting inside, letting the tension being released physically and mentally by utterly sinking into the sheer, pellucid watercourse.

Paroxysm erupted her stark, soft skin as its scum was gradually ebbing, being swept off due to the water, she dunked her face along with her lion mane of old Hollywood, disheveled, laced in filth. In the meanwhile, her lion mane was drenched marvelously as her hand extended to grip the apple shampoo by applying on the top of her head until she left aloof the shampoo by rubbing with her both hands, her slim fingers working on the shampoo, smearing in foams by nurturing the waterfall of honey curls.

Afterwards the same hand reached for the sponge and the soap altogether by chaffing it until lathering it at last. Yet quivering hand which grasped the lathered sponge by scrubbing every part of her body by beginning with behind her earlobes below her neck until it peaked her feet and toes as the scum was no longer daubing as if they vanished in the past.

Thereafter, she allowed the pool of bubbles wash off every inch of her figure which was coated in lather by taking a deep breath, cocking back her head by allowing her soaked and shampooed halo ringlet of silken tresses contact the water by being laundered promptly. Glossiness crept underneath its silken hair, stimulating its softness and bright, rich luster.

Eventually Judy was surprised by the final results of the bath, and she was feeling fresher, cleaner unlike a couple of minutes ago. In addition to her episode in the bathtub, she yearned to stay for a few more minutes since it was affecting beneficially her skin, muscles and body by forgetting for awhile the existence of pain, affliction, and enervation. Nevertheless, she couldn't alternatively forget what her love interest did to her and the concept of her plotted rescue, organized by him emanated versions of her inner voice, which persuaded her whether to trust him or on the contrary not yet.

Apple fragrance, emanating of her already washed hair and the mint scent of her skin flared her nostrils as her mellow, soft as velvet hums chucked the corners of her oral caverns, shutting carelessly her eyelids by letting the bubbled hot bath scarfed her naked, slender body, commanding its muscles to linger under the sedating water as if it's their medicine for solving the solution with her jaded, debilitated physically condition which was visible with a stark eye from miles.

"Five more minutes probably?" One of her inner voices echoed monotonously, promising herself to get out of the bath in a matter of handful of minutes only by relishing the postponing process of leaving the paradise. The former holy woman's heart and mind were enveloped in heavenly bliss, muffling inhale which vented of her nostrils from the top of her lungs.

The hallway outside the bathroom sunk in eerie silence as if the mansion lacked tunes or any element of the life, resurrecting each part of the façade.

The bath was a cure for her detrimental thoughts which caused an earthquake of melancholic, prejudicial thoughts, accumulating as they shape a great depression.

Despite having an incredible time by bathing her entire figure and being as if she was performing a baptism by purging the melancholy, suicidal thoughts and the scars on her mind as they left gaps on her heart and mind when she was still a patient in Briarcliff, taking a bath in the broiling waters of the hydrotherapy and how some abominable orderlies were not only embarrassing her with their presences by encompassing her, but also attempting to violate her.

Perhaps the bad old Briarcliff memories sedated her mind with sorefully loathsome memories which she could never fail to recall.

\- _Reverie_ -

_"No, please! Keep your foul hands off me!" The middle-aged inmate's entire being was splotched in guilty, whacking shame and embarrassment by judging her blenched facial expression which she wore as her bewailing pleas and protests were bleeding the both younger orderlies, who were literally violating with one of the patients especially a former woman of the cloth._

_She opted to rebuff with slaps by balling her small, soft fists, in case if one of the younger men touches her or dares to brush his skin against hers by clenching tightly her ivory teeth as her naked body sunk in the hot hydrotherapy's boiling water._

_The both orderlies tried to touch any part of her yet drop dead gorgeous body by extending their recently slapped hands as crystal, bitter tears sprung up her eyelids until they commenced to gush down her cheeks like creek, mirroring her tear-stained cheeks._

_Furthermore, their responses in rather physically and sexually abusing manner were much worse than harassing her mentally solely with words as they depended on how sane and stable is her mental stamina._

_"Do not touch me! I told ya, do not touch me, ya disgusting animals!" Her bewails were as endless as waterfall by expressing her total desperation over being impotent physically to stop either of the orderlies at least._

_"Ah! No, not this!" The former sister of the church whimpered by opening abruptly her eyelids at the thought of the recent nightmare which spiraled like a whirlpool in her mind about the happened in the hydrotherapy room and attempted rape and violation. In the interval, bewail lingered on her tongue. "Noooo! Somebody help me!" What she lastly thought was she was back in Briarcliff with the predators, diminishing her self-esteem, recalling each fragment of the chest of paradoxal, painful memories as they abided scarcely erased even if it has been weeks since took place. The blonde doubtlessly wondered if she was actually dreaming or on the contrary, it's the reality._

\- _End of Reverie_ -

\- _Back to Reality_ -

"Argghhh! Help me!" The high-pitched, mortified cries of the middle-aged unwed mother not only were audible in the hallway, moreover in the other outskirts of the two story mansion by drawing the former holy man's attention as his mammoth, creamy hands were holding the infant in the baby bathtub by bathing him as the both family members spent some time along especially as a father and a son.

"Hold on a second, baby boy! I should see what's going on!" Timothy clarified by lightly stroking Edward's sparse chestnut hair by leaving him for a while in the baby bath, located in the other bathroom which was downstairs, pecking a tender, affectionate kiss on the top of his soft as baby skin head by storming off the room within seconds without delay.

"Jude? Rare bird, are you okay?"

"Help me!" Another plea bewailed along with her balled hands into fists by drumming the thin air as if they were actually the orderlies' torsos. Once Timothy went upstairs by towering each stair in a jiffy, hence, his imminent destination was the bathroom by standing before the door, rapping on it a handful of times by keeping her wits about his presence.

"Jude, I'm here!" In the meantime, she got from the tub by hopping up in comfy slippers, grabbing the bath towel and wrapping it around her drenched, naked body by covering even most intimate parts as his yelling was sufficiently audible for her. Her wavering hand drifted down to the doorknob by unlocking the bathroom's door as her other hand balled the bath towel which covered her chest and below as it resembled a short dress.

As soon as she unlocked the bathroom's door by opening it, panic and concern painted the younger man's face though his chocolate brown eyes wandered up and down by scanning her smaller figure from her soaked ringlet of old Hollywood golden curls down to her long, slender, ageless legs. He opted to not admire her ethereal grace as much as his sinful, unholy temptation was convincing him. His ivory teeth nibbled on his bottom lip as a chainsaw was cutting a tree.

"T-Timothy," Judy addressed him with his first name by catching him off guard as a temporal awkward silence arched, dispersing its translucent hushing rays.

"Are you alright? You bewailed just moments ago and I'm so concerned about you. What happened?"

"Just horrible memories of Briarcliff." The older woman muttered as tears rolled down her cheeks by staining her complexion, sobbing by wiping the sprung tears with her solely free hand's slim fingers as piano keys. Bobbing her head and covering her face in the palm of her only free hand at the moment. "Ya don't have any clue what I've been through. I'm so ashamed to talk about it." Mumbles were dancing in the corners of her mouth.

"It's alright, Judy! Just tell me what those memories were. Just to lift some ounce off your shoulders!" He immediately shut the bathroom door by clasping a strong, muscular arm around her shoulder by ambling up through the corridor until Timothy guided her to their bedroom.

"Two orderlies were trying to sexually abuse me. They didn't talk. Their predatory actions were pretty evident what they wanted from me as I was in the hydrotherapy's bath." The blonde spilled the tea as she seated on the edge of the king-sized bed which was embellished with velvet baby yellow blanket. Muggy heat crept beneath her cheeks as they tinted pink. The older lady lowered her head in shame by still balling in her clenched fist her bath towel which was wrapped tightly around her torso and below. "I tried to protect myself from them."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear all this, rare bird! You didn't deserve the ending which I delivered you by jailing you. It was all my fault for keeping you locked and not getting you out of the hellhole much earlier especially when you were pregnant with Edward Ralph." In the interval, Timothy snaked his other arm by bracing her upper back, pulling her in a tight, alleviating and warm embrace as she cocked back her head, barely brushing his rib cage.

A whisper died on her tongue, shutting her eyelids as slits.

The former man of the cloth's heart ached when Jude confessed to him why she wailed a few minutes ago in the bathroom, masking his face with panic, concern and horror by sketching his grimace.

Guilty conscience staggered him as he really can't put a finger on it since he blamed himself over the searing guilt and shame of locking up the love of his life especially when she needed him the most.

"Why didn't I rescue her from these predators? Why not earlier?" One of his inner voices echoed during his alleviation of his former lover as her sobs subdued. His colossal, secure hands clenched into fists and volcanic blood erupted briskly in his veins, his nostrils inhaling the fragrance of apples and mint which ravished him and taunting his impure thoughts, thinking unholy of the blonde.

"If I were there, I'd beat the shit out of them and not let my rare bird being touched by any other man." Red-hot ire was cooking inside him by pecking an affectionate kiss as its lips supported her temple. How long it has been when the former member of the church has cuss by spilling dozens of bad words. "I swear! I won't let them or anybody hurt you ever again as much as I used to for which I deeply regret." Even his most coruscating sin which he deeply regretted via a confession which he recently spat it out, relieved his heart by feeling the burden which encumbered his guilty conscience being replaced with skepticism and roaring abhorrent of such staff members like those both orderlies, whose attempts to violate Judy were a total failure.

The former holy woman was urgently, unsurprisingly haggard, in fact, the fresh, hot bath which she recently took a handful of minutes ago not only baptized her as if she felt definitely like a new person, resuscitating her and purifying her from the sins of the past, further, it stimulated each body muscle as its luster ingested the skin. The scum and filth which once soaked her entire being, now it was far from known circumstance.

What the middle-aged woman detested more than anything was the feeling which she hated with burning passion. The hatred with burning passion to being pitied was a second nature for her, acknowledging the bland indulgence which was a comfort zone for the majority by allowing themselves to become dependent of sweet words and utterances, alluring them like the sailors as the sweet words and utterances were the sirens, tempting them until they contacted the ocean, and they just disappeared by being kidnapped in the underwater area and being cannibalized as their bones were the sole traces of the last victims, which the sirens have taken with themselves.

"Did ya bathe our little cherub angel? Is he well?" Solicitude veiled her prejudices and thoughts of their baby son by wondering why Timothy didn't arrive earlier with Edward as he wanted to check her and question her over her whining.

"He is well, for sure! I'll bring him as you must hold on for a second as you shouldn't be ashamed of looking around to dress up yourself after a bath. I mean, you can look in my wardrobe." Sympathetic, affable smile sketched across his face as soon as they broke off the hug by looking up at his face.

He momentarily got from the edge of the king-sized bed where he used to seat alongside his former lover by walking away from their bedroom, leaving all alone the older woman with her train of thoughts and whirlpool of emotions.

As soon as Jude got from the bed by strolling up to the lacquered armoire which contained older, scarcely worn garments of the former Monsignor, she opened it by finding one pair of large sized, comparing it to her body frame an old, almost untouched cotton pale blue shirt by putting it on her frail, exhausted skeleton by finding the box with her stored belongings on the window board as a Holy Bible, her Ravish me red lipstick, hand mirror, piece of bloody red satin negligee, cooking book with remarkable recipes were the only unique items which were stored.

Little did she know what to wear else as an undergarment, due to the fact she couldn't find even the simplest panties to cover her bare bum and most intimate part of hers.

A mild scowl vibrated her jaw line and throat as she was searching for any comfortable feminine underwear to cover her genitalia and bum cheeks at least which was diabolically embarrassing.

She knew right away her love interest respected her privacy which he ensured her without violating it since their arrival and just before it.

Even possessing the most conflicting feelings between bleak and somber, love and hatred, vileness and goodwill, what she liked about him was by the way he respected her privacy without violating it remorselessly, intentionally. That's perhaps what she appreciated as a trait of his even when the shadows shadowed his figure as their hostility was a fact for now yet. An inevitable circumstance which should be solved if they yearn living in harmony for the rest of their days, besides not letting the held grudges to eat them alive.

"Goddamn! Where are those goddamn panties? Are there even?" The unwed mother grunted by scrapping lightly her upper lip in frustration for not finding any underwear to conceal even her deepest, darkest and most intimate secrets of hers.

Not only she hasn't eaten since she has been awake, moreover the starvation was consuming her like the barren, horrid death which knocked on the door, whether if the imminent victim of it is a young or more like old.

Suddenly a door tap interrupted her as she heaved an absent, hoarse sigh as her heart leaped at the thought of her former lover to hand her Edward and take a short nap before eating something scrumptious.

"Jude, are you ready?"

"I'm having a problem. I can't find any piece of underwear." Her face flushed as if the steam vaporized, buzzing. In the interim, he opened the door by a tad rock as a swing of their little sweet ray of sunshine was soothing, tempting Edward to not let the demons of his incessant, baby cries emerge at the moment.

"You can't find?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for them all over the room and just," The blonde shrugged her shoulders by slowly turning to Timothy as he handed her their bastard child to being held in her secure doting arms. "Nothing! I'm so pissed off, hungry, sleepy and tired as I don't know which either of these I feel more."

"Everything will be okay. Just relax by getting an extra nap and soon expect a scrumptious lunch. Trust me!" The younger man's strong, muscly arm was dangled around her shoulder as his colossal, milky hand kneaded her upper back, in order to comfort her by peppering her cheek with a kiss as she relished the moment by melting in the cheek kiss.

Instead of bland bickering, emanating from petty controversial exclamations they swapped along, she crept underneath the bed sheets with her son as he was nestled in her crook's neck, whilst Timothy fled their bedroom by descending the stairs by briskly pacing in the hall by heading towards the kitchen to prepare lunch not only for himself, but most of all for Judy.

When Judy and Edward were the sole inhabitants of the room, she was falling more in love with her baby son by transfixing her light brown eyes on him, admiring his facial features in awe by wearing a permanent, content smile, dancing across her lips.

Not only Edward was swaddled warmly and tightly, moreover, his diapers were already changed as his aroma of baby soap and shampoo were toying his mother's nostrils, which inhaled its fragrance, causing her to purr gloriously by fondling gently his sparse hair down to his button nose by pinching it in teasing manner.

The sole consolation for the infant even when he was starving or his needs were coming a bit too much for him were truthfully his mother and father's arms, which encircled him with immense love and warmness as every child and baby longed for this from their parents.

Author's Note: Well, we descended to Jude and Timothy's bright alternative, or rather, the home sweet home!

Did you actually trust Timothy since the beginning or you are starting to sympathize with his character?

What are you actually looking forward, when it comes up to the blend of peaceful angst, my dear readers? 

Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! 


	4. Kindness

Timothy wore a plain, white taintless apron once he set a foot in the kitchen, in order to make a mouth-watering lunch for Jude since the starvation was consuming her.

He opened the fridge by gathering the ingredients for the potato soup such as a couple of unpeeled potatoes, carrots, onions and bouillon as they were the top exceedingly required ingredients for the potato soup.

Despite the fact the former man of the cloth couldn't call himself a good cook, nevertheless he knew essential recipes such as soups, green salads, cookies, pancakes, French toast and so forth. At least, his cooking knowledge was on basic level and little did he know if his rare bird is going to approve even at least like the dish he's going to fix for her.

In the meanwhile, he turned on the radio by plugging its cable in the plug to listen to some entertaining, jubilant songs which were recently playing by distracting his attention from the gruesome memories of the sinister madness of Briarcliff and muting his guilty conscience which gnawed him for months.

"_Somewhere beyond the sea somewhere waiting for me! My lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailin' somewhere beyond the sea! She's there watching for me!_" Bobby Darin's song was recently playing on the retro radio.

When he realized what he lost as the most precious thing in the world was his rara avis as his guilty conscience insanely, peculiarly drove him to insanity to discreetly imbibing alcohol in the darkest hours of the night after the patients were already gathered in their cells for extra good night sleep. The demon of boozing was another sin which was destroying him and breaking his vows for daring to gulp even the weakest sip from the sinful, sweet, intoxicating beverage in the hallowed world of the ecclesiastical icons, the church and God. God's glaring, judgmental gawks were transfixed on him by observing how his servant to the church was breaking his vows remorselessly, bluntly by opting to numb his heinous deeds by taking the lives with his bare hands of two remarkably taintless and innocent souls like Shelley and Mary Eunice reckoning the Satan's, who once found his new home in the young nun's body by commanding her to do unbelievable, speechless things.

\- _Flashback_ -

_"I-I don't know If I'm capable of living in a lie but," The priest was seating in old Jude's office as a bottle of communion wine sat motionlessly on the cherry wood bureau with an untouched empty glass for alcoholic beverages. His trembling hands which were coated in scars after the murderous Santa Claus not only tried to drown him in the altar of baptism, but also harm him, lowered for the glass and bottle. "I won't let the pain consume me anymore." Muttered whisper in the hollow echoed in the desolated, austere dim light office as his presence wasn't all alone. Demonic shadows of the sins and vices stalked him by scrutinizing in each corner of the austere office what he's willed to do to dull everything which hurt him._

_When his mammoth, creamy hand met the flimsy bottle of communion wine by popping off its cap as if his hand caressed a newborn baby's soft as satin head by pouring in the glass mouth-watering red wine until it peaked to the top of the glass. His mouth salivated to savor more than anything the alcoholic beverage which he might never touch even risk his vows and career as a pious member of the clergy, whose took solemn vows were far from insignificant for him to accomplish and pursue his goals._

_As soon as he slammed the communion wine's bottle by sitting on the bureau slightly lurching, due to his physical strength, consequently Timothy grabbed the glass by chugging the wine within seconds as if he hasn't drank it for ages._

_The last time when the holy man drank communion wine was when he shared a remarkable Friday coq-au-vin night with his rara avis in the kitchen as he offered her to pour her some red wine, despite her response by convincing him she has renounced herself from drinking._

_Afterwards he poured a couple of more glasses of the sinful alcoholic beverage until he passed off on the bureau as his head whammed senselessly, recklessly. His eyelids were as heavy as stones by shutting by themselves as they were no longer capable of blinking, due to the fact the alcohol commanded his body even succumbing him to be unconscious temporarily. Hearing yet the rejoining echoes of God by gradually losing his devotional servant to the cloth, whose nemesis was obvious not only in his actions, but also his manners as well._

_On one hand, the alcohol would aid him to overcome his depression and grim thoughts by numbing their inner whispers in the hollow for awhile until they emerge all over again and continue their relentless assaults. On other hand, his remorses for locking up the love of his life were unspeakably sinister and haunting him._

\- _End of Flashback_ -

\- _Back to Nowadays_ -

He was chopping the carrots, onions and the baked potatoes tinier, whereas the water and bullion were boiling in the saucepan by supervising them at times.

All of a sudden, the middle-aged woman came to her senses as her eyes partly opened by blinking, opting to gain her average vision, compared to the blurry one which occurred just seconds later after opening them. Hazy images appeared like old Polaroid photos to her by surveying the surroundings around her until the quiet inhales of the slumbering baby caught her off guard, coming to the conclusion she wasn't alone.

In the meanwhile, the blonde looked down at her baby boy by giving him a benevolent, doting smile, honed up in the corners of her rosy-coloured, dry lips as he was nestled peacefully in the crook of her neck, collecting the necessary nutrients for an infant. One of her hands reached up for his sparse chestnut hair by lightly fondling it, admiring its softness.

The former sister of the church had her own urgent needs, nonetheless shortly before getting from the bed and heading towards the en-suite bathroom to clean herself as her crotch contracted, due to the accumulated urine in her lower abdomen, consequently she decided to spend a few more minutes after her nap which didn't last even for a quarter an hour to talk to the two-day-old ray of sunshine.

"Look at yarself, sweet ray of sunshine! I'm so happy to have you in my arms even when ya were in Mommy's tummy for straight 9 months." Soft, honeyed whisper lingered on her tongue by inhaling inwardly its alluring fragrance of baby soap and baby shampoo, ventilating her nostrils which once smelled the pungent stench of heavy medicaments, urine, poor hygiene and mold inside the old, grand, gradually demolishing asylum façade. The overcastted memories of these reeks were no longer disturbing her and the fetor smells which she mustered to inhale and exhale daily. Even more the bedroom's scent of lilac perfume interweaved with the fragrance of baby soap and baby shampoo. "I love you so much, my Sunshine!" In the interval, she pecked an affectionate, feather kiss on the top of her head by faintly rocking her into her secure arms shortly before laying her on the bed by unwrapping the blanket , getting from the bed and hopping up in comfy slippers by tucked up tightly the baby's clothed body in the blanket.

When she got from the bed by wobbling up to the en-suite bathroom by stepping inside and cleaning herself within several seconds until she washed her hands, besides splashing some lukewarm water into her parchment, pale as ghost face as her a tad drowsy, fatigued honey brown orbs were transfixed on the mirror which hung over the marble sink, observing her double herself via the mirrored reflection. Certain rapid changes into her face and appearance were visible with a stark eye when she twisted the faucet by halting the running water via the sink.

For example as she zoomed her face by keeping it closer to the mirror as its proximity diminished the gap between her facial skin and the cool glass as her drenched, sylphlike fingers traced her forehead by pushing away some stray silken golden curls which framed ideally her yet gorgeous complexion as the harrowing traces of scars from the electroshock therapy, which boiled her brains to bones as their start was above her elegant, subtle eyebrows by peaking under her scalp on the both sides. Sore scars of the electroshock therapy were not only distinctive from taking the heavy medicaments which she was enforced as another alternative to transform her in a mindless zombie with lack of rationality in her decisions, statements and dynamic train of thoughts, but also driving her to insanity and the insanity, itself, produce one more victim of the doping or barbarous, abominable electroshock therapy. Namely a madwoman.

What was apparent behind her looks change during the months of being locked up against her will along with being stripped off her ecclesiastical duties and pregnant with a love child, her face didn't look the same at all. Or that's rather how she might behold into her eyes, at least. A tad wrinkles were naturally imprinted on her face as the middle-aged lady has aged with a couple of years. She couldn't even remember how old she looked like the last time or at least, according to her whirlpool of thoughts. Judy Martin was eventually a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties especially forty-five-year-old. Perhaps she thought she looked around forty years old the last time or that's how the thoughts' engines were functioning in her mind by frequently revising the brain cells with the recently scanned information. And now the blonde thought her appearance's real age was slightly her true age's senior.

At last but not least, even if Jude has drastically lost weight, nevertheless the pregnancy rescued her from being underweight by keeping her body weight's balance at average level. Traces of stretch marks crept beneath her arms and legs' mossy, milky skin as a piece of evidence of the weight which she has lost back in the old days and the drastic weight gain during the pregnancy.

What the middle-aged mother felt was a total disgust as she observed every single detail about her body and complexion, regardless if it's a minor or a major one. She can really tell her medium-sized breasts' roundness and firm shape which they once possessed as if she was an adolescent, they lost its elasticity as a mild limp poised them as they didn't seem ultimately round at shape at all.

That's how the motherhood and being a falsely locked up against your will patient affected her not only mentally, further, physically by far.

"Oh God! I look like a piece of garbage!" Her fingers even hardly brushed the recently developing due to certain sleepless nights and assembled weariness of not collecting enough extra good night sleep hours or the immense stress. They were as dark as a black eye injury. The former holy woman even began wondering who she was contemplating and scrutinizing its facial features' person, whose double reflexion was maneuvering each motion of Judy as if she had an unrealistic twin of hers. In the meantime, jaded, disgusted exhale was heaved from the top of her lungs.

That's what she was thinking of her looks and she couldn't put a finger on it as well. Little did she know what Timothy or the other men might think of her contemporary looks shortly after she heals and recovers by gaining the moderate decibels and softness of her voice, besides some of the memories which were substantially eradicated might pop up somehow in the forthcoming future.

At the moment, a casual, velvety yell emanated from the bedroom which was linked with the bathroom by recognizing the voice, itself.

"Jude, the lunch is ready!" The former man of the cloth wondered where his rara avis fled as their baby son was another piece of evidence she wasn't in the room by setting the platter with her bowl of potatoes soup , glass of water and garlic bread on the right nightstand where laid. Lifeless silence arched in the sufficiently expansive bedroom which consumed the former devotional member of the church. He commenced to search for her around the room without a result. "Where are you?"

The older woman's stomach growled once she heard his announcement as the lunch was already ready by lowering her hand to her small belly, rubbing it with her fingers, in order to alleviate its tension. Meantime she pursed reluctantly her lips until he heard Timothy babytalking to Edward.

"Awww, hi there, little ray of sunshine!" After the search, the former priest found his son blanketed in a blanket by lifting him up in ease by swinging him into his protective, strong arms, peppering his cheeks with tender kisses as Edward's eyelids opened by darting them to his father's chocolate brown orbs, which he found them certainly for soothing whenever the loneliness was consuming and distressing him. "Daddy got you! Have you ever wondered where your Mommy is?" Meanwhile the young boy pointed with a fore finger directly at the bathroom's door until the bathroom's door squeaked as Jude was walking away from it by shutting the door behind her.

Reassuring, optimistic smile crawled on the younger man's face at the sight of his right hand's return as his heart molted to behold her again, although he knew right away her mild hostility towards him for his betrayal.

"Look at your Mommy! She's back!"

"Oh! How sweet to see both of ya together," What it astounded Timothy was Jude's peculiar kindness as a smile spread across her lips once she saw their son in her former lover's arms. The platter with her lunch wasn't noted by her yet as she extended her hand to caress her baby son's cheeks, admiring its beauty. "Just look at ya, Edward! You're the most beautiful baby I've ever seen!" She hoarsely, softly chuckled as Timothy joined her.

"I can't disagree! That's indeed the most beautiful baby in this world. I'm sure somebody is urgently peckish." The former holy man alluded as the older lady's heart leaped at last by peeping down at the right nightstand, noting the tray with her lunch and glass of water which she longed to consume them.

"Mhm! I'm for sure."

Thereafter she ambled up to the king-sized bed back by unwrapping the blanket by readjusting its sheets and placing the tray on her lap as she took a seating position in the bed by commencing to assault her dish by chugging her glass of water promptly, whereas her other hand lowered to the silverware spoon by guzzling the potato soup and the slice of garlic bread.

Edward whimpered in his father's arms as the both males' as he longed to be with his mother though Timothy was his last hope if Jude wasn't there otherwise. Whilst the former nun was cherishing the lunch moment by eating and drinking in silence without any further disturbance. Little did she know how long it has been since such scrumptious, warm and kindhearted meal has chew. The last time when a mouth-watering dish was being consumed by her was actually once a week coq-au-vin dinners which she shared with her former boss. One Friday coq-au-vin night, shortly after having a dinner, it was Timothy who gave his virtue to the love of life as she was being impregnated by him though she thought she was either allergic or her health condition was aggravating, due to the poor hygiene, urine, and heavy medicaments as their reeks were nauseaous for her sensitive nose.

"Shu, shu, shu, Edward! Sweetie, your Mommy is eating and soon she will be able to feed you too! Just be patient a little more." He rocked their love child, attempting to alleviate him as his high-pitched cries and whimpers subdued as if they have never zinged his baby pinkish lips. Edward meekly, obediently didn't utter a single syllable even make a taunting sound. Howsoever, the former member of the clergy tried to not admire as much as his former lover's ethereal, endless beauty which she possessed though his warm chocolate brown pools were pierced into her, admiring her halo, angelic ringlet of old Hollywood honey curls which cascaded down her shoulders by framing perfectly her complexion. Additionally, he thought his old, scarcely worn shirt of his looked fine on her figure by outlining the curve of her slightly limp breasts, her shoulders. Meanwhile unholy thoughts swam in his mind at the thought of his former lover wearing his old , almost unworn shirt as he has already seen her full body image in this piece of garment .

As soon as Jude finished her lunch by setting the tray with emptied dishes on the nightstand by wiping her damp, gummy mouth with the back of her elvish, surprisingly warm hand, suddenly her honey brown orbs glimpsed up into an outdated calendar which hung over the dressing table as the sole details she can see were a few numbers only, questioning her what day it was since it has been a long time since the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer acknowledged what day it was today.

The last time when the calendar dates were well-known to her was when she was Leigh's essential target as it was Christmas then.

"Did you like the lunch?"

"Mhm! It was undeniably delicious." Relieved smile distorted across his berry-coloured lips as she complimented, admiring his cooking skills though his self-criticism when it comes up to cooking were obnoxiously oblivious for her. His pride was already lit up as its flare ignited in his soul, illuminating his lighter, saturating side of his character which was particularly known for her and fewer people only. Probably his true side which wasn't concealing any detail of his leery manners and demeanor. Unmasking him. Exposing his real face. "The day is 27th of," What she beheld in the corner of her eyes by scanning the calendar's day, Timothy cut her off in her mid-sentence which abided unfinished.

"It's 22nd of September 1965!" He replied as the middle-aged lady exhaled sharply as Timothy handed her Edward by taking with himself the tray of emptied bowl and glass, besides the filthy and used silverware spoon. "Relax!" That was the last word which he murmured just seconds before slamming the bedroom door by walking away from their bedroom.

Eventually the former man of the cloth was genuinely concerned for Jude and their baby as he hankered more than anything to behold Jude fresh and relaxed by taking a break from the encumbering pressure which she has been through for months and weeks.

Afterwards another light, loving kiss scooped the little boy's cheek as his mother was undoing the old shirt's buttons, in order to breastfeed him with her solely free hand. At this moment, Edward followed his mother's swift motion of unbuttoning the attire in the corner of his inquisitive hazel irises.

Author's Note: Of course, the hallowed atonement Jude and Timothy are actually aiming up to isn't going to be a child's play at all!

Do you prefer Jude or Timothy's character, in spite of the lacking tribulations we have beheld them in the first four chapters?

For all Nunsignor shippers! Have you ever imagined the pairing with have their own one of a kind, sweet ray of sunshine? If yes or no, why? 

Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! 


	5. Bedtime I

The time elapsed as the sand was emptying partly the hourglass between the thin gap, calculating the elapsed time for today. The hours seemed like centuries for Jude.

After the naps and having a fresh, hot bath along with scrumptious lunch, the afternoon hours were dying as the evening ones were looming, as a result of the darkened sky and the daylight petered out. The both episodes of the days were significantly changing.

The daylights were reckoned as reincarnation of the day. The sole part of the day which blooms and the light nurtures every being.

The evenings were deemed as the incarnation of the death with its darkness and cryptic aesthetic serenity, flourishing the ineludibly gruesome, yet soothing evanescence looming the starless horizon.

Whilst the former priest was putting in the microwave bowls of pool of potato soup after warming in the oven the garlic bread, Judy was sitting on the kitchen table with their baby son, who laid peacefully and securely in his mother's arms.

The dim moonlight vaguely battered by dispersing its bright moonlight through the blinds which guarded the kitchen window. The days were commencing to be as cold as the glacial winter, despite its just late September only.

The middle-aged unwed mother rocked her sweet ray of sunshine by cradling it into her protective, doting arms by lulling him in velvety voice which was sufficiently audible just for her and Edward.

"_Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky! Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are!_" Jude's naturally roseate plumpish lips parted in the lullaby to their baby son, molting her and her former lover's heart as his ears could hear a couple of curt lullaby's lyrics.

Beaming, kindhearted smile cracked upon his fresh, still youthful face by setting the microwave for a half a minute to zapping the bowls of potato soup as he had a limited time to wait and do for these thirty seconds something than just waiting impatiently.

The last time when the former sister of the Roman Catholic church has masticated was a few hours ago but her appetite wasn't stabilized at all. The kitchen's ordinary climate was chillingly cold as if they were outside and feeling the autumn breeze brushing gingerly their flesh and frail skeletons, sweeping goosebumps nonetheless.

What Jude hankered to tell directly the former holy man was to compliment from the bottom of her heart for the two-story mansion he owned, and they're going to live altogether for the rest of their days. Discussions should be negotiated whether now or within minutes once they finish their dinner meals.

What the both middle-aged adults should discuss was the shopping for diapers, baby garments, baby bottle and soother. Furthermore, toys for the infant were at very top of their impending discussion since the child mustn't be bored whenever his parents are busy with further stuff.

"_When the blazing sun is gone, when he nothing shines upon! Then, you show your little light, twinkle twinkle all the night, Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are._"

A handful of seconds elapsed since the microwave was functioning. The younger man turned to his former love by walking up to the dining table, inspecting the unwed mother with their infant as he pecked a kiss on his soft head.

"Judy, we should discuss some important stuff on the table!" Timothy cautioned softly after he rose up, transfixing his gaze on the lovely pair of mother and their son.

"Of course! It's about our baby, I guess." The blonde nodded her head by affirming his words, looking up at him plainly. "Because Edward needs a soother, baby clothes, some toys and," As she was about to resume her utterance, nonetheless, she was cut off by Timothy, who approached the microwave by stopping it as a half a minute has already passed and placing the both bowls of potato soup on the counterplot by equipping them with silver regular spoons.

"We will discuss it right away once the dinner is on the table." In the meantime, the former member of the clergy gathered the bowls of boiling, hot pools of potato soup from the counterplot by hauling them gingerly up to the dining table. Suddenly, the cold climate which consumed the kitchen, was consuming the unwed mother's skeleton either as her body muscles started trembling in frequent quivering choir. "It's alright. Everything will be fine!" After he finished with serving everything on the kitchen table, he took off his blazer by draping his blazer on her shoulders as the quivers subdued promptly. Her body muscles relaxed underneath the attire's warmness which contagiously absorbed.

The elder blonde wanted to express her gratitude for being took care of as she hasn't expected such drastic change in his demeanor. From having a yen, aspiring, pigheaded and selfish man of the cloth by evoluting into a selfless, caring, loving mere man. She had scarcely imagined him in such light. The words just died on her tongue which once swirled and danced before being uttered as she took her time to sort her mind without making a bad impression.

Meantime, Jude placed the baby on the other chair alongside her by allowing her to have dinner at peace without struggling sluggishly by holding the spoon in one hand and having a hard time scooping some potato soup.

In the first minutes of the dinner process, they masticated at peace by chunking the garlic bread and munching it, while Edward was eagerly watching his parents having dinner as he contemplated a married couple, which have been together for 2 decades at least. His brittle, tiny heart leaped as heat sucked up the once Siberian coldness which enveloped it. His hazelish-brown pools were fixed on his parents by cherishing the moment of the gathered family altogether on the kitchen table in the kitchen especially having a dinner.

Edward Ralph yearned to evoke anything. Honeyed words would be on top of his tongue by lingering, nevertheless he was just two-day-old baby.

"So what do you plan to do in the beginning of the day, Timothy?" It was Jude, who relentlessly ineludible launched a conversation with her former lover, manipulating her caramel brown big, roundish depths to flicker at her bowl with potato soup by consuming it gradually.

"After breakfast, I'm planning to go shopping for our little sweet ray of sunshine some diapers, baby bottle, soother and baby clothes, besides some toys which I'm sure Edward might like. What about you too?"

"Well, I'm planning to stay at home with the little precious." Wryly jubilant chuckle quivered the corners of her oral caverns shortly before scooping a wee pool of the dish by masticating it immediately. "What else to do, besides doing some housework for some diversity until the baby weans off and being able to roam around?"

"Jude, I am a bit afraid of leaving you home alone with our Sunshine since anything dangerous might possibly occur anytime!" He left the spoon by sipping his glass of lukewarm, fresh water by leaving aloof the glass on the table. "It will be double ounce since I messed your life up and now paying for my deeds by leaving you home alone with Edward and ending up all alone."

The eventual truth was it weighed his guilty conscience for locking up and blindly believing her foes but he wouldn't ever forgive himself as soon as he leaves Judy and Edward home alone when his journey is up to the stores for the prominent baby stuff by returning back at home and witnesses whether the corpses of his former lover with their bastard child or otherwise being wounded, and their bodies are naturally tattooed in bruises and pinkish tints. His fragile heart would be gapped in timeless gaps which are scarcely corrigible. They're just like scars on his soul, illuminating his grimmer side.

On one hand, he would be happy after Jude recovers and the baby weans off to have the ultimate freedom to halt herself to flood her mind with the gloomy thoughts of the past and do whatever it pleases her. On other hand, Timothy would be otherwise relentlessly, fiercely jealous if she interacts to other men by cracking his heart on trillions of glassy pieces, in fact, the former Monsignor his top priority was Jude after he had done for her after getting her out of Briarcliff by sharing a roof along with their son and giving her everything including personal space. Moreover, he knew by far she had impure thoughts of him which tantalized her for years even developing intensifying, unexplainable feelings for a man of the cloth though she used to be a woman of the cloth. The sex, impure and unholy thoughts were forbidden in the world of the patriarchy, the pious icons, God and the church. They were like the forbidden fruit and serpent in the Eden's heavenly garden.

What the former Monsignor longed than anything even his former long-time career of member of the clergy was to work on his toxic relationship with the love of his life as Edward was one of the essential fragments which gathered them as a family with a toxic, still developing relationship.

"Don't worry about me! We will be fine with Edward. I'm stronger than you think!" The blonde fessed as piano keys the words which zinged her rosy-coloured, damp lips.

"Jude, imagine if I'm back at home whether earlier or later than your expectancies and you're gone or far worse…finding you dead or harmed by a freak!"

"I'm stronger than you think, believe me! You should stop pitying me which I detest as a feeling than anything in this world. Ya understood?"

"I do!" He nodded humbly his head, opting to avoid as much as bland bickers between him and Judy since they could hardly cope with their envenoming relationship.

"In addition to after dinner, I'll breastfeed Edward by putting him down to sleep in the bassinet in the room where I'll sleep and I'll write the shopping list for tomorrow. Deal?"

"Mhm!"

Several minutes advanced as summer breeze in discussions as the baby was the crucial topic in their conversations since the love child was their top interest, Timothy cleaned the kitchen table as Jude got the opportunity to breastfeed the infant by putting him to sleep upstairs in his bassinet in her bedroom as she scribbled a shopping list. Perhaps diapers, soother, baby garments, baby bottle were on the top of the list with the required stuff.

Afterwards, the former nun tied her halo ringlet of old Hollywood glossy honey tresses in a messy bun by tucking some stray tresses behind her petite ear. Last but not least, as Jude was all alone with her prejudices and train of thoughts in her bedroom with Edward, who was already asleep, she ambled up to the crib by pawing the rims of the crib, peeking with inquisitiveness in awe by surveying his shut eyelids and soft heaves motioning in his chest. She couldn't help as her smile rapidly grew across her lips.

The middle-aged lady was beyond hypnotized by falling even more in love with her precious especially when he was soundly slumbering. At the moment, the door slightly squeaked as Timothy opened it by drawing instantly his former lover's attention in no time by shushing to him to keep himself quiet, in order to not wake up the baby.

Optimistically radiant smile flourished on his complexion by rambling up to the cot and his right hand. The both lovers' hearts raced as soon as they were in the same room with the unconscious baby boy.

"He seems profoundly asleep." The British added by dangling his strong, muscular arm around her shoulder as his colossal, surprisingly warm hand kneading her upper back's muscle. Their orbs were darted to the youngest family member.

"For sure! He's such an adorable ray of sunshine when he's asleep. Edward is a special boy!"

"I can't agree more!" All of a sudden, the former sister of the church felt soft lips grazing her with a peck on the cheek, sending shivers down her body and spine of sweetness, warmness, affection and a tad embarrassment as she the least expected it. "Aw!" One of her hands lifted up to the cheek as the slim, creamy fingertips lightly brushed, tracing the spot of the cheek kiss, massaging it.

Author's Note: I'd like candidly to thank everybody from the bottom of my heart for taking their time to read the very first chapter and being ready to unfold the true wings of the light.

What are your candid impressions on Jude and Timothy's bonding, during their toughest times?

Do you rather prefer Jude or Timothy? Or otherwise, Edward is your favorite character if you are still oscillating to award either of the protagonists with your preference for them? 

Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! 


	6. Bedtime II

💀 _Psalm 91:5_

_You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day,_ 💀

The swarm of rain poured down ruthlessly crude slapping the windows and lighting bolts jolted down by boldly tweaking the ground. Fortunately, Edward, Jude and Timothy were profoundly asleep, too focused on their reverie and slumber rather than the lighting bolts outside. It was in the middle of the night as the rain hasn't stopped since a couple of hours.

First and foremost, the former nun wore a mere, rigid white as snow nightgown with long sleeves, ankle length as she resembled a sheer angel it hugged her frail skeleton. Her wild, silken lion mane of old Hollywood golden curls were ruffled on the pillow, whereas Timothy wore to bed nothing than his plain white T-shirt and pyjama charcoal trousers.

Edward was put to sleep in his crib in his parents' bedroom as well.

What it was more than bewildering and surprising was Jude sharing a bed with her former lover since it was the day he got her out of the snake pit and now instantly repairing their toxic relationship? It was a readily difficult quest for them to work on their relationship especially the blonde, who was the one that ended with severe heartbreak in the end.

The former sister of the church crawled in the bed before ten o'clock, whereas the former priest shortly after her as he decided to not leave her sleep all alone with their baby son since the stormy night would double her nightmares as Jude hasn't purified her mind from the agonizing and somber reverie, flooding her mind.

Their unconscious, warm bodies were tucked up in quilt over their blanket as the imminent month was approaching too soon, resulting in more brashly chilling weather. Soft heart beats coated their hearts in their ribs. Their shut tight eyelids were shielding them against the flashing lights of the lighting bolts outside which gleamed up the room by dispersing its vibrant light in the pitch-black bedroom that sunk in ebony darkness.

Even when the blonde was no longer a patient behind the sinisterly dull walls of Briarcliff, the nightmares' sea stormy waves washed over the aureate sand of her peaceful, senseless mind in slumbering condition. Not just the nightmare of being a former inmate in a madhouse especially falsely committed against her will as her clerical belongings and title weren't her armor anymore, moreover the nightmare of being a former nun and the final episode of being a servant of God and the church were evocative with explicit images, tinting in diversity hues her closed eyes. It was her good old foe, Leigh Emerson.

\- _Dream_ -

_Prayers were recited in a murmur, whilst the eyelids were clutched shut as the lit up candle holders with its a handful of candles, illuminating the dim light austere office of the nun in the wee hours of the night. The silhouette of the middle-aged woman was reflected on the wall, due to the candles by ducking her head in the cordial, regular prayer._

_The sound of opening door by shutting it behind the mysterious figure which gave chills to the sister of the church, ushered her to tilt her head as her eyelids' slits were opened. Horrified frown was tattooed upon her porcelain, pale as snow complexion as foreboding and prejudices were painted as an illustration naturally across her facial expression. The grim picture of the fear and deviation of the safety were illustrated altogether. Goosebumps trimmed her mossy, soft as peach skin underneath her conservative, wool habit and the heavily, frequently throbbing in apprehension heart beats varnished her frail heart._

_Seconds of hesitancy flooded her mind whether to turn to and confront the mysterious figure of the uninvited visitor in her office, or otherwise let the prejudices and her fear consume her being._

_As soon as she turned to her office glassy mosaic door, the suddenness of noting the murderous Santa Claus in her office in the middle of the night affrighted her as she felt her bones quivering underneath her flesh. A couple of questions pooled her mind as the first one lingered right away on her tongue._

_"What are you doing here?" The blonde questioned the serial killer beyond calmly with hints of jitters by transfixing her stare into him, due to the terror he caused with his presence._

_"I'm here to open my present!" He replied with a tad pride, waxing his words as its sparks of angst glistened past his recent victim._

_In the meanwhile, the young possessed by the devil nun locked her mentor's office by twisting the key, ultimately trapping her in the genuine hell. In the claws of the vicious murderous Santa Claus. The click of the locking door jingled unmelodic tunes in the elder nun's ears as her attention was utterly paid to the predatory inmate, disguised as Santa Claus._

_"Ho, ho, ho!" At the moment, he ambled up to her by opting to cow her with his gruesome gait and demeanor, despite she hurled up to the locked door, whilst he seated on her cherry wood bureau and boring his glassy lapis lazuli optics into the desperately hopeless, amenable middle-aged woman of the cloth._

_"Dr. Arden, open this door!" The former promiscuous nightclub singer rapped on the door with a balled fist, emitting sound of somebody to unlock the door by opening it and rescue her from the psychotic lunatic, who was now in her office and sending chills her bones and body of disgust and panic. Leigh gathered the letter opener in one of his hands._

_"__I'd put the lion's share of blame on that sexy Little Sister. She really doesn't like you.__" Leigh's baby pinkish, gruesomely chapped lips curved in the scoff as his fingers toyed gingerly playing with the letter opener, whereas Jude's honey brown pools which were abrading the purely inevitable disgust and fear were darted to the murderous Santa Claus. Her nude mouth remorselessly subconscious parted in a wide O._

_"What's all this about?"_

_"You left me in that hole to rot." He aimed the letter opener's silver edge to her as if it was directly pointed at her._

_"But you're out now. Anything is possible. Let me pray with you!" He narrowed his eyes at her words as she timidly uttered the caution, kindling the very flares of her self-consciousness to confront one of her old foes that has rioted against her for a handful of years emphatically._

_"__I think I'd rather tell you about my fantasies, like the one where I jam this gigantic crucifix up your ass,__"__He dumped the letter opener on the hardwood, covered in a tad dust desk the razor as he got from the seat, confessing his abominable fantasies with the elder nun. "O__r the other one where I take my rotting teeth and my foul-breathed mouth and chomp down on your dried-up__,"__The apprehension drastically transformed into loath and exceeding terror as her heart raced once he got from the desk by strolling up to her in bone-chilling gait, in order to scare the living daylights out of her even with the merest manner of his. Their distance was closing as the elder man was approaching the blonde, who held her both hands. Meanwhile, as Leigh's monologue advanced, he imitated with his mammoth, filth and poor hygienically layering hands claws of a vicious beast by ravaging his prey's flesh with ease, bobbing his head._

_"Help me! Please!" Her palm rapped on the door, in order to somebody hear her pleas and at least unlock the office's door by rescuing her from Leigh, despite Mary Eunice and Arthur Arden stood in the hallway by doing nothing than just relishing the horrid scene of the tormented middle-aged lady. At this moment, Leigh had the ultimate opportunity to mortify her even more as the foul shame, guilt and disgust were on the very top emotions, brewing inside her as a black coffee._

_"__Oh, Sister, where's your sense of Christmas spirit?__" He posed the question in slightly agitated and joyous way as if his joy resembled a child on the Christmas morning who has just obtained his Christmas present. "__I'm just beginning to feel the comfort and joy!__" __He imitated a boxer by clutching his palms into balled fists, in order to jab Jude in teasing manner, punching her._

_"__Help me! Dear God, someone help me! Anyone, help me!__"_

_Her emotional protests abided unheard and overlooked as if they resembled a whisper in the desert, dancing on her tongue by wedging its voice decibels._

_At the moment, the possessed juvenile holy woman yanked the key from the key lock by walking away, leaving her mentor all alone in the office with nobody else than her predator._

_"__It's just you and me, Sister.__" In the meantime, Jude sat on the flooring by reclining on the light yellow wall by lightly bobbing her head as the serial killer leaned against her. The back of her hand wiped her nose as dew of perspiration layered her complexion.__ "__God's off having schnapps with the nice Santa.__" She swallowed hard at his words._

_"I'm not the enemy."_

_"__You're not the only enemy, you just happen to be the one I'm focusing on right now.__" The grip of Leigh's hands by grasping her as their proximity closed, scarcely gapping as whirlpool of franticness whirled her mind and the facial expression on her complexion. Their gazes met as his darkened sapphire blue pools were staring right at her soul by opting to not keep the flame of warmness, hopes kindle in her irises. "Whee!" He spun her as her body slugging against the polished armoire with the collection of canes' door, collapsing on the floor._

_In the meanwhile, the armoire's double door opened as a collection of canes, whether thick or thin, drew promptly the serial killer's azure blue eyes which were filled with childish euphoria and hysterical jones to torment even more his recent victim._

_Graphic, explicit images of year ago when he was canned by his favorite nun dawned as they smeared the pain he experienced into his vision. His mouth was mildly agape at the view of abundance of canes, which are used as a method of disciplining rebellious patients, despite their vices he has already put himself in their shoes by figuring out the sore pain of the hardwood, thick even lacquered exquisitely whip contacting the stark skin of his bum._

_He used to feel this pain but he has already fantasized how it might feel to cane a nun especially his tormentor as his pride is gleamed by the light projectors of his revenge he has plotted since she had treated him harshly, numbering the security guard Frank._

_"__I take that back. Maybe God is here, and...__"He approached the armoire as the opulent choice of whips gave him the opportunity to choose by evading the half conscious body of the sister of the_ _church. He picked up one of the canes with its twisted ending, resembling a spiral. "He's giving me a sign." He set a foot on the right side of Jude as she vaguely tilted her head up, gasping in muffled, hoarsely pain._ _Shortly before that he scrutinized cautiously his weapon for his plotted revenge and torment._

_"__My welts never healed. No sunlight, no medicine, no bathing, and you never, ever checked on me! Not once! They're putrid now.__" Meanwhile, he commenced to drag her by her back by maneuvering her to the desk as she crawled timidly, allowing his physical strength commanding her body as she gasped reluctantly, bending on her hardwood desk as he held the cane in the other hand. "They're seeping pus!" The murderous Santa lisped beyond lividly as the blood ferociously boiled in his veins, due to the stashed ire which brewed inside him by spewing his adrenaline on the middle-aged lady._

_"__Maybe I'll have you lick them after I'm done, huh? Remember what you said? Huh?__" He withdrew the whip seconds before whipping her exposed rear by lifting up the rigid, dark habit's hem as her hands gripped the bureau._

_Flashback of her words by explaining to him God doesn't have to work hard to enter him with his light were imprinted like patches, sewed into his tattered mind._

_"__Guess what? There is no God. But there is a Santa Claus.__"_ Leigh began whipping her rear as she gathered discreetly the letter opener.

_The whipping process's pain escalated to sorer and searing as soon as the whip brushed her bum's bare skin which was shielded by her satin's bloody red slip. Initially, she flinched when the first whip was reckoned pensively as if children were jumping on the rope and their rejoicing screams spread like eerily cheerful tunes in the background._

_A handful of canes have already welted her bare rear though he thrummed inwardly to himself once the ravishing red lingerie caught his eye as if he was a bull. He knew right away the nun wasn't a virgin anymore due to the unholy lingerie, which hugged her slender, nevertheless indisputably attractive with its ageless and swan curves, highlighting her body muscles._ _At last but not least, the suitable sobriquet flooded his mind to portray her after noticing the provocative sultry, bright red silky, lacy slip. His lip curled by whispering after the fourth whip:_

_"Whore! I don't know who do you plan to seduce, however, my guesses could be either your goody two shoes security guard who licks yar heels or," He paused by clearing his dry, soar throat after starving and not drinking a fresh, cool water to resurrect his body and organs from the barrens. "Or your favorite Monsignor as I'm starting to think he doesn't know a holy whore is coming with him in Rome. And the nuns address her Mother Superior since he's the Pope and don't figure out who's standing next to the Pope." Leigh exclaimed in jeering manner as a hysterical snigger quivered in the corners of his foul-breathed mouth. She vaguely twitched after the fifth cane's starkly barbarous contact._

_In this moment, the sister of the church abided quiet as she felt impotent to halt her worst nightmare which was in her office. Right here. Right now._

_She swallowed hard after the shame and guilt concreting her hear, factly, he exposed her pettiest and most forbidden secrets. Wearing the lingerie for nobody else than her favorite priest whom she wore it on every Friday coq-au-vin dinner night. Panic was painted upon her porcelain, sanguinely tinted complexion. The heart beats' frequency encumbered her as she sensed a humongous ounce building in her contracted chest._

_After a couple of whips, he slapped with the cane bluntly the desk by laying it as his callous hand shifted down to her small, perfectly shaped rear which once was as mossy and clean as peach until the welts, bruises and pink tints were illustrated as an artwork of his torture. Fingers traced the softness of her rear's flesh, relishing its silken delicateness._

_Afterwards he dragged her violently towards the en-suite bedroom of hers where she spent the lonely and cold nights without a male companion._

_"__Are we having fun yet? Have you softened up enough to receive the light?__"__He threw her forcefully on the bed as she was groveling, gasping in pain again._ "_Except it won't be God...__" He paused by kneeling on the edge of the bed, approaching her as she turned to face him, panting_._The heart beats pulsated into her sensitive, petite ears which were coiffed in the wimple._ _"A__nd, actually, it won't be light.__"_ _The distance of their faces closed its gap as she felt the light breeze of his foul-breathed mouth hardly brushing her frantic complexion as she expected the worst at last. His hand drifted to her wimple by yanking it in swift motion in no time, releasing her angelic halo ringlet of old Hollywood honey tresses, freely coating her upper back. Her honey brown pools were fixed on his disgusting complexion in horror as it was her ultimate chance to stop him by stabbing his neck with the letter opener, which she found on her bureau._

_When the letter opener's silver edge ramming the crook of his neck, thick, marvelous cataract of blood spewed as his senseless condition commanded him by slumping, releasing the mortified holy woman of his bear trap at last. Her elbows propped her weightless figure in the middle of her compact bad, watching how Leigh laid on the floor in defeatist manner. Blood coated her hand after glimpsing at him, panting in weary way after self-defending herself against the psycho._

\- _End of Dream_ -

\- _Back to the Reality_ -

"Arghhh!" That was the sole bewail which zinged her rosy-coloured lips, wedging after the nightmares crowded the room of her senseless mind, which was resting by preparing for the imminent day. Protesting babbles lingered on her tongue by dancing its own dance.

Fortunately, Edward was deeply asleep, lost in his baby reverie unlike the middle-aged adults, who were struggling to fall asleep. All of a sudden, Timothy came abruptly to his senses, due to his former lover's despondently high-pitched wails in the middle of the night, formulating her sheer vulnerability shrouding her very persona.

"Jude! Judy! Shu, shu, shu," She sobbed as he dragged her towards her as her waist was wrapped in his promisingly muscly, strong arms. His velvety hushing as satin crawled to her ear though they haven't opened their eyelids in the almost ebony mantled bedroom. "Everything is alright! You're safe."

"T-Timothy?" She turned to him as she let her brittle, elvish fists rub her drowsy eyes, thus opening them, while the duo pinched broadly opened their roundish optics. Their stares contacted intensifying potent in the stable maintenance of an eye contact that spoke volumes about their gazes' authentically unique exemplars they crafted. "I didn't know ya were here."

"Shu, shu, shu, Judy, I want you to sleep peacefully and do not think of anything horrendous! And that's why I'm in our bed. I don't want you to sleep all alone with our baby son."

Once he mentioned our bed, the former woman of the cloth swallowed hard, due to the fact, she once made love to her former lover especially after their Friday coq-au-vin night by sharing a bed. She has never been that close to him since his betrayal, and, now, lying in the same bed with the love of his life especially when she was in the heartbroken stage, astounded her.

"I will try! But I am horrified."

"Don't be horrified, rara avis! Everything is fine." One of his hands released the grasp of her waist by shifting up to her face, cupping her cheek in the palm of his surprisingly warm, creamy as baby skin hand, pecking a tender kiss on her cheek, in order to alleviate her without an ado. "There's no Leigh Emerson. There's nobody else to harm you. You are at home, being loved and reassured. And, most of all, safe!" In the interval, a serene, desperate of felicity smile honed up in the corners of her lips by relishing the moment of the warmness of his palm cupping her cheek. "Try to get some sleep and wake up fresh on the next morning, okay?" She bobbed humbly her head, affirming his words as his soft as silk, berry-coloured lips scooped in an affectionate, platonic kiss her temple as her sobs subdued in the thin air. The thumb of his hand kneaded her well-defined cheekbone, admiring her ethereal beauty. "Good night, Jude!"

"Good night, Timothy!"

Author's Note: And sometimes even the most peaceful times have their own flaws.

What is your real opinion on Jude's nightmare she had with Leigh Emerson? 

Is it possible in the future chapters our favorite protagonists to stumble across Leigh Emerson's small cameo that may offer its trials?

Don't be shy and feel free to leave your honest feedbacks! 


	7. A New Friend

_\- 3 Months Later -__  
_  
\- 22nd of December, 1965 -

3 months of safety have elapsed along with the gradual development of their toxic relationship even when they yearned to change the things for better, by focusing on the toxic knot of their relationship. For these months, Edward Ralph has already gotten bigger and he could not only babble, but also utter certain syllables and vowals, analogizing a baby symphony.

Furthermore, the Christmas holidays were approaching along with the chilling and snowy weather, resulting the hints of the autumn already dying as they have relinquinshed.

The former sister of the church's voice has already improved, subsequently, sounding clearer and less hemming as the scars and bruises after her electroshock therapy, besides Leigh's torture were already ebbing as if a temporal tattoo was wiping off itself with the advancing time.

The former members of the church spent the majority of their time at home with their son since exceedingly necessary heed is on the very top of their responsibilities as parents.

Even more when Timothy's fortune was the least problematic for Jude, she'd rather prefer to find a job by being somewhat independent, earning them on her own without somebody's help and counting on.

Whilst Jude, Timothy and Edward were in the kitchen as they were having a breakfast in the wee hours of the morning as the former priest woke up first, due to the fact his right hand was profoundly asleep and their baby son squealed, weep, longing to be encircled by love and his parents' affection, besides being fed.

In the interim, the love child was sitting in his high chair, contemplating his parents, who have been equipped with forks by pronging the fried eggs with the bacon. The motion of the consumed which conveyed downwards the throat after being munched a couple of times. The motion of the hot morning caffeine beverage lingered inside the former man of the cloth's oral caverns by instantly resurrecting his body from the drowsiness, which once was bedded in his body, incapable of freely moving his muscles and his nerves relax.

The both middle-aged adults have never raised the topic even allude about the older woman's financial independence from her former lover by finding a job via the newspapers, contact its manager and organize an appointment for her interview, determining whether the position would fit her or otherwise being rejected within a couple of questions.

Further, Judy dithered whether to raise the topic or intimate it, in fact, she's stayed at home for 3 straight months as each new garment, piece of lingerie, pair of shoes, food or anything else depended of Timothy's tremendous wealth, instead of her, besides finding and socialize with more people by finding new friends and perhaps a new love interest, attempting to erase the past and the sinister betrayal as its vicious cycle as its sandstorm trap them in eternal darkness.

"Timothy, I've thought of something doing for myself and being slightly independent." In this moment, at the mention of the keyword independence, the former holy man's heart sunk as he'd never thought of his former lover moving on in the life without him after 3 months of looking after her and their son, besides nurturing and aiding her to improve her once despaired condition. He has done anything to help her to be as stable as the old herself unlike the temporal episode, when she was institutionalized and being stripped off her clerical title and possessions.

"W-What do you mean with this? Are you planning to go live somewhere else by taking away our son from me?" He posed the question beyond gravely nonplussed as calmness accentuated his both questions as rational response was necessary for them which was the crucial task for Jude, sorting her mind and pensively nibbling on her bottom, plumpish lip after masticating some fried eggs.

At the thought of taking away their son as he lives with his mother and the younger man seeing him once a week was as backstabbing as the betrayal towards Jude. Nemesis was probably the suitable word for this, inundating the British aristocrat.

"No, of course, not!" In the interval, the middle-aged mother stuttered, struggling to spell the syllables, factly, she wanted rationally explain to him what she exactly wanted without her utterance being deemed as a contrast of her wishes. "Urm, I've thought of finding a job or rather be mildly financially independent by earning on my own money, besides make new friendships with other people if they're eventually necessary." The blonde was deliriously serious and emphatic behind her exclaimation as the former priest's pair of chocolate brown irises widened at shocking befuddlement, infecting his facial expression which was blanched as if her words were as toxic as bleach. "Which means I'll reside this property yet even when I'm working."

Silence gapped the vacuum patches as their proximity wasn't approximate than a handful of inches. Meanwhile, Edward's look on his baby face changed drastically from content into bewildered, due to the fact his parents' voice tones altered in its nuances as the darkness shadowed them, instead of allowing the light disperse through them. His bottom, rosy-coloured lip pouted as his big hazel brown pools, fueled with sheer concern and innocence were darted to the both adults, whose discussion intensified and the silence was far from better, ameliorating.

"I don't mind, of course, Jude, but I'm concerned about you."

"What do you mean with this?" She instantly knew right away he wouldn't fully approve and support her decision, questioning it. Grotesque, insouciant frown cradled her naturally, silky rosy-coloured lips. "Are ya scared I'll hang out with other people?"

"Of course, I'm scared for your welfare! You can't trust anyone or interact them since I've enough hurt you and I don't want seeing you hurt ever again whether by me or somebody else." In the meantime, she took a deep breath, afterwards exhaling sharply as her former lover's complexion wasn't as soft as a desolated, roving homeless puppy. Grimace interweaved with glare, caricaturing his traits as his thick eyebrows furrowed, whereas his slits blinked and his lips weren't smiling.

"So now yar starting with this shit again? Caring about me since this betrayal which ripped my heart on trillions of pieces and now starting to care about me?" Meantime, the muggy blood boiled in her veins, when her former boss demonstrated signs, referring to jealousy and murderous overprotection. The heart beats expedited its speed in her ribs as its pulsation resembled the final moments of a hourglass's sand elapsing, indicating the exact time.

"Rare bird, I did mistakes as every human being would do if they were dumb enough to let themselves being fooled!" Meanwhile, the former woman of the cloth got from the table as she verged to raise her voice and horrify Edward since she was conforming, attempting to balance her voice decibels. At the time, she finished her breakfast by soaking it in the kitchen sink, releasing jet water to wash some food chunks, abided on the unwashed plate.

"Don't ya just know how damn hurts this? I've my own life as you can see Edward anytime and look after him but," In this moment, she paused by picking up their three-month-old son from the high chair, subsequently rocking him in her protective, loving arms as his baby face was nestled in the crook of her neck. "But I won't let ya to control my life. This is my life and it's my personal choice whether if I'm going to work and earn my own money. I'm not a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl, who can rely on our general budget which is yar money." She nagged at him as she was walking away from the kitchen, her bile rising up in her throat due to Timothy's obvious, readable as a book with widely opened pages mettle as it plagued each muscle even his facial expression.

"I respect your decision but I don't want to see you hurt again." By the time, she held their son into her arms as she opted to flee, while his utterance was a whisper in the desert.

As soon as the former member of the church fled the kitchen with Edward, consequently the younger man heaved a dramatic, timorous sigh from the top of his flaring lungs, flooded with volcanic angst.

An hour after the breakfast, the former nun fed their little sweet ray of sunshine as she left a couple of baby bottles, filled with milk, in case if Edward is peckish and she dressed up herself in comfy black as ebony wool dress as its hem descended down to her knees with long sleeves and V neckline, followed by black boots, knee length, black stockings and charcoal, pelvis length winter paletot, shielding her frail skeleton against the chilly winter climate. Thereafter, she let her halo ringlet of glossy old Hollywood aureate curls cascade down to her shoulders, framing ideally her still gorgeous, pale as ghost complexion with its elegant features.

The recent garments which concealed her mossy, soft as satin skin along with the boots were bought shortly after her recover as she has chosen wisely what she'd wear on the shopping day with her love interest.

Whilst she was applying some make-up such as ebony mascara, waxing her long as flapping wings eyelashes and conservative mauve, high-quality lipstick, painting her lips, the suddenness of Edward's blubber sounded as nails scratching gradually wooden plank, distressing her as she got from the dressing table, zinging up to the cot, in order to alleviate her baby son and not get herself in trouble as Judy was dressed up differently as Timothy commences to track her.

Luckily, the former holy man wasn't nigh on the second floor as he was busy with vacuuming the living room's mildly dusty, sunk in chunks flooring.

"Shu, shu, shu, sweet little boy! Everything is alright! Mommy's got ya!" In the interim, the blonde peppered the infant's temple and cheeks with doting, feather kisses, in order to alleviate him, besides kneading lightly his shoulder as his blubber subdued in the background, fortunately.

"Mama!" Edward babbled as it was his first time saying the word with slight hemming, burying his face in the crook of his mother's neck as she rocked him yet, finding comfort in her scooped embrace.

"Aww, my heart! Did ya just say yar first word?"

"Mama!" The young boy recited as he repeated smugly his first ever word weeks after his advent in this world.

"I love you too, Edward! I'm so proud of ya for saying yar first word, ya know!"

An hour later after the former nun has already left the private property as she wandered the Vermont countryside's streets along with her baby son. Her boots stomped the snow, leaving tracks of her as if she's disappeared from home as a missing child. The multitude of crystal, wee snowflakes as they danced, tumbling down by lightly tickling the solely exposed part of her body as her facial skin contacted it, whereas Edward was peacefully asleep in the baby stroller as the wool blanket, blanketed his motionless body, inhaling inwardly the fresh, chilly winter air, cleansing his nostrils.

Jude hasn't left the two-story mansion for 3 months as the last time when she was somewhere than in her recent and only home was her plotted escape from the nuthouse in the late September days.

All of a sudden, the middle-aged mother found an old, nevertheless, unarguably dilapidated cabin as the disintegrated glasses of the broken window carpeted the interior and exterior's ground as the door was fractured as if burglars have broken it with their entire might and stolen away any prominent paraphernalia which this abandoned cabin has once possessed and stored it inside the unkempt, peeling off old pale green walls.

Even through the large sized window, the middle-aged lady could notice other petty details behind the forsaken one-story property. No furniture embellished the empty room. The walls were readily peeling off as they once were stable.

The reek of pungent mould and filth emanated from the interior, taunting the former holy woman's fragile, sensitive nostrils as they flared, coughing coldly, half-heartedly, pretending as if she had a flu.

Proletariat of recently active questions flooded her mind as the brain cells invigorated as the hazelish-brown orbs surveyed the unoccupied area, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip reluctantly.

For how long this place has been abandoned? Did it used to be somebody's property? If yes, who were the former owners and what happened to them to leave this place being in ramshackle condition like hellhole?

All of a sudden, a feminine, creamy gloved hand was on top of Jude's shoulder, sending shivers down her body of embarrassment and prejudices as the goosebumps which sleeved every inch of her flesh electrified along with the muscles.

The blonde hesitated whether to turn as she exhaled sharply from the top of her frail lungs as she thought it was a particular stranger behind her.

"Excuse me, ma'am! You seem terrified." The young woman, who spoke behind instantly smelled the things weren't alright at all as her instincts were as potent as the animals' ones.

"W-Who are ya, miss?" Sanguine nuances tinged the unwed mother's cheeks as additional, sweltering heat calorified the facial skin. Her mouth was mildly agape, widening her honey brown pools as she was caught off guard, wondering yet who's the young lady in front of her. At the moment, she mousily turned to the stranger lady. "I doubt I know ya."

"I didn't want to scare ya, ma'am! But I'm Madeleine Wilson." She offered her ebony gloved hand, offering a sheepish, humble smile, honed up in the corner of her naturally rosy-coloured, soft lips as her hazel orbs met another pair of hazel ones, locking up her stare.

Madeleine Wilson was actually a young woman at age 19 as a halo ringlet of silky aureate curly tresses cascaded her mid-back, framing ideally her youthful, fresh face with fair skin tone and hazelish-brown eyes. She was tall approximately 5'2 and possessing slender body structure. She didn't seem a native Vermont at all especially judging her firmer accent as if she was actually from somewhere else. At last but not least, the blonde was dressed up in black wool stockings, black and white dress with long sleeves and round neckline as its dress's hem flared her knees, ebony booties, black coat and leather gloves.

"Oh! It's a pleasure meeting ya, Madeleine!" The middle-aged woman stuttered, hemming to spell the words, in fact, the awkwardness was sketched upon her complexion, giggling uneasily by extending her hand, shaking Madeleine's gloved one. "I'm Judy Martin. Aren't ya coming from Michigan eventually?"

"Yes, I'm from Michigan and I came here when I was 17 years old with my brother. We're living on the next street!"

"Oh, it doesn't surprise me why ya have moved there!"

"Well, we moved there, because of my parents as they weren't alright with that I want a fresh start in my life, besides my brother despises them with each bone." The younger blonde chuckled wrily as she suddenly noticed the kipping infant in the baby stroller as a calm, blissful smile flourished on her lips by moving from one topic to another as the older lady pursed her lips. "Hey, you've a child! How precious it is!"

"I know! Thanks, Madeleine! He's the handsomest baby boy and his name is Edward Ralph!" Judy added as her lip curled after popping them up, glimpsing at her son.

"He's handsome for sure! I can't agree more! I like his name." Then the girl shifted her gaze up to Jude, meeting hers as she bit her bottom, plumpish lip. "Please, Judy, don't call me on my full name as Maddie would be better."

"Maddie?" The elder blonde enquired, stammering.

"Mhm!" Madeleine bobbed humbly her head, thrumming mellowly.

"Well, as you say, Maddie! In addition to the awkward situation, I'm accepting yar apology as I didn't think you'd love to talk to an old lady like me especially with a child of on her own!"

"Hey, Judy! Don't talk shit about yarself. You aren't old yet." Madeleine rolled her eyes dramatically, due to the middle-aged mother's obnoxious pessimism, vomited in her voice. "You don't seem even older than 35 years old, ya know!"

"I'm eventually forty-five-year-old! But thank ya for the nice compliment!"

"Oh! I'm 19. And I couldn't believe you stared up at the old, demolishing one-story cabin."

"Why? I've thought of creating my own business as a saleswoman in a flower shop as Edward is by my side!"

"Hmm! Don't you know I've ever thought of creating my own business in a flower shop?"

"Oh really? It would be spectacular if we do it together, Maddie!" A brighter idea just popped up in Jude's mind as she opted to persuade the younger woman to create their own business as saleswomen in a flower shop as they gave one another high five, attempting to not wake up the young boy in the baby stroller. "And this little precious angel of yours," In the interval, the juvenile blonde crouched down as she gingerly extended her hand, in order to fondle gently the little boy's cheek without interrupting his slumber. "Being part of our business as an assistant!" Her fingers traced faintly his well-defined cheekbone as a soothing, sheerly angelic smile cradled her soft as satin lips, darting her honey brown irises to Edward.

"Of course! It looks like he's going to be taught at such complicated stuff for adults." The former sister of the church giggled softly, tickling the corners of her mouth.

"Why not? Unless we explain to him. I'm sure he's smart boy."

"He's only 3 months old. What do ya expect, Maddie?" In this moment, the Michiganian rose up as she readjusted her gloved hand absently.

"I truly mean it he's a smart boy."

"For sure! And here's my phone number, in case, if ya want to phone me as we discuss along the things about the flower shop by cleaning the place and invest money into its repair." Meanwhile, Jude handed a card with the domestic phone number to Madeleine to phone each other as they discuss together their ideas about their future business.

As soon as the middle-aged lady got back at home after unlocking by herself the front door, thereafter setting a foot in the corridor by shutting and locking the door within seconds, the piquant fragrance of mushroom salad quickly reached her nose as Edward came to his senses, being embraced by the lovely scent. Serene, childish smile distorted across his lips.

Little did the former nun know where's her former lover as the piquant fragrance of mushroom salad hinted her the first version of recent Timothy's location. The first version was he can be found in the kitchen, preparing the lunch as twelve o'clock in the noon was elapsing. The second version was perhaps he's somewhere else in the mansion by doing something else.

"I'm home, Timothy!" She evoked out, taking off her winter coat by hanging it on the coat hanger, afterwards kicking off her boots, releasing her clammy socked feet from at last, acquiring the utter freedom to be shoed in comfy slippers.

"Hold on a second!" The younger man untied the plain, white apron by draping it on the chair as he marched away from the kitchen, noting his right hand, scooping their baby son, whose face was nestled in the crook of her neck, babbling absent-mindedly anything past her petite ear. "Oh, hi Jude! I was wondering yet where have you been up to now after breakfast!"

"It's not of yar business, Timothy Howard! Not again with this bullshit. Can't I have my own life?" She attempted to overlook him by going upstairs with their baby son as the former holy man escorted her without giving up. Grotesque, scowling frown hugged her lips by imposing the stairs, patting lightly Edward's shoulder, in order to alleviate him and not focusing on his parents' heating debate.

"Of course, you can unless you don't hide anything from me! Do not act like I'm stranger to you!" He tried to be as diplomatic as much by keeping his voice decibels lower, softer with his decent British accent, accentuating the pronouns. His mammoth, veiny hands were into his slacks' pockets in self-conscious manner as his lip curled, whereas the mushroom salad's bowl was sitting stock-stilly on the counter plot.

"Why not? Didn't you act like I'm a stranger to ya when you blindly believed them and they turned you against me? Huh?" Sarcastic, inciting unconditional sorrow snicker danced upon her oral caverns. "Like I was nothing to ya except your sacred whore, pregnant with our bastard child." Gradually ire palpitated its rhythm, lingering on her tongue. "And let me tell ya something. Unless, I don't hear I'm sorry," She imitated the last words in Timothy's voice as if he uttered them curtly, rocking yet their little sweet ray of sunshine. "I won't tell ya why I was gone."

"I'm sorry, Jude! I didn't mean to be overprotective even obsessed with you. I just want you to be safe if you're planning to move on in your life." In the interim, she slammed the bedroom's door by locking up herself as she placed Edward on the edge of the king-sized bed, whereas she was taking off her outdoor garments by tossing them in the basin, storing already worn garments. Thereafter she dressed up herself in casual clothes such as a bright red sweater, gray comfortable trousers.

"How sincere are ya?" Meantime, she sat on the dressing table, cleaning her makeup as the brush contacted her facial skin, thereafter brushing each inch which was baptized in make-up.

"As much as I'm indeed!'

"Do ya think I will accept it?"

"At least, I'm glad you aren't ignoring me!" Throughout she got from the dressing table by taking Edward into her protective, doting arms as she was about to unlock the bedroom's door until she was met with her love interest, standing in front of the door with a handful of inches proximity against her figure with his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"Anyway I'm accepting yar apology and I was down the streets as I saw an abandoned from a long time cabin as its former owners are unknown yet." In the meantime, the both adults descended the stairs after she shut the bedroom's door, taking a deep breath before her monologue. "And suddenly one stranger girl in almost the beginning of her 20s caught me off guard as her name is Melinda and we had a small chat."

"That's splendid!" Perfunctory ducking of his head persuaded her to resume her monologue about the stranger lady she met. "Go ahead!"

"And she's coming from Michigan as she moved on there with her brother when she was only 17. She was so kindhearted and open-minded as we shared the main idea of altering the cabin, transforming it into a flower store as we're working together and invest some money in its repair, due to the sinister condition." As soon as the both adults stepped in the kitchen, Judy placed in the high chair her baby son by approaching the kitchen sink, twisting the faucet as jet water gushed down and washing her hands. Meanwhile, Timothy fixed the plates with the meals from the day before, mixing them with the marinated mushroom salad.

"Oh, I see! Well, I can help you with investing money in the cabin's renovation and purchasing some piece of furniture but I want you to be safe and careful, okay?"

"Of course, I'll be safe and careful since this girl is going to work with me and Edward is going to be with his Mommy since he needs his mother to nurture him rather than spending our entire spare time at home as prisoners." She replied dryly with a tad irritation, oozing of her exclaimation as she dried her drenched hands in the towel, subsequently seating on the kitchen table as she extended her elvish, creamy hand to stroke the baby's head, admiring its softness of his sparse chestnut hair which has grew abruptly for the last 3 months.

"Edward to be with you?" In the meanwhile, the older woman bobbed her head, thrumming melodically to their son as the former priest was preparing the dining table, serving the plates with marinated mushroom salad and bowls of potato soup, besides equipping with silverware eating tools. His heart sunk in the thought of their love child spending more time with his mother rather than with his father as the profound, nonetheless mist, pitch-black seas of dark thoughts flooded his head, chewing his upper lip in frustration and clearing his throat coldheartedly. "No, no! You can't do this. This child is supposed to be with his parents, spending equally time with both of them, no matter how much do you want to be at work with our little angel!" Serpentine venom lingered on his tongue by envenoming his words in mild exasperation.

"Tim, I'm deadly serious! He needs his Mommy and he can see his Daddy tonight as much as ya don't want it." Meanwhile, her response was as emphatic as a piercing arrow in the rib cage as her bile just rose up in her throat, due to Timothy's stubbornness. "However, ya should know I'm urgently and very responsible for our sweet ray of sunshine as much as your remorses how they eat you slowly." She pecked an affectionate, feather kiss on the top of Edward's head, seconds before equipping herself with a fork, pronging a few marinated mushrooms and masticating them.

"Alright, alright!" He was fed up with her stubbornness as he commenced scooping with the silver scoop some pool of potato soup, consequently masticating it.


	8. Jealousy

\- _3 Days Later _-

\- _25th of December, 1965 _-

The days elapsed as quickly as summer breeze until Christmas. Not only Judy had the task to invest money in the godforsaken, dilapidating cabin which she found on the street with her new friend Melinda, but also looking after Edward and surprising her small, nonetheless inseparable family for Christmas even if she and her former lover bickered one another at times and most of all, need to work on their toxic relationship with humongous efforts if they want to accomplish results, resulting to harmony and balance.

The day before, whilst Edward was playing with his car trunk on the carpeted flooring of the living room, his parents spent a handful of hours embellishing the grandiose grizzly Christmas tree with variety of colorful, glimmering garlands, balls, Christmas aureate star and tree lights the tree, itself, resuscitating the atmosphere with merry one. Merry atmosphere, replacing the ires, sorrow, held grudges for certain period of time and grim vibes, compensating them as much as they were parallel to the time when they loomed and afterwards vanished in the thin air. As the both former members of the clergy adorned the Christmas tree, they were getting to know each other, opting to find a diplomatic way without bickering each other again.

After they have finished with adorning the Christmas tree, throughout they went on shopping with their baby son especially when the stores were teeming with mass of people, eagerly shopping for the Christmas holidays without an ado.

As the Christmas day approached, Judy wasn't kipping close to Timothy due to the immense fear of rejection as a scar has already shaped on her lower abdomen after giving a birth to their little sweet ray of sunshine, besides the stretch marks rumpled the abdomen area. Moreover, the former nun has worn the large sized, old, scarcely worn shirts of her love interest as an armor, guarding from the frosty climate, during her senseless condition and showing less skin since she wasn't feeling comfortable after the pregnancy how it drastically changed her body on 360 degrees. 360 degree unbelievable change as Judy wasn't the literally bony lady. Nonetheless, it has been 3 months after Edward's birth and the middle-aged woman has struggled with losing the problematic extra pounds.

Hive of crystal, wee snowflakes danced their own dance, forming a Christmas choir as they were tumbling down, subsequently sheeting the ground with snow carpet, suddenly Judy came to her senses in the wee hours of the Christmas morning as she hopped up in comfy, fuzzy slippers, thereafter picking up the infant from his crib and fleeing the bedroom as she needed to feed him and check what was under the Christmas tree.

When the middle-aged mother descended the stairway to the first floor as she was rocking lightly, dotingly her son in her secure, loving arms, in order to alleviate him and silence his uncontrollable, blunt blubbers which could result waking up Timothy from his sweet slumber,

"Good morning, Sunshine! Merry Christmas to ya!" In the meantime, the blonde planted an affectionate, delicate kiss on the top of the baby boy's head, whereas he babbled to her jubilantly once she stepped in the living room as their irises were embraced with the Christmas vibes, which were delivered to them via the aesthetic decoration.

Perhaps a Christmas train on the floor was pipping exuberantly and looping its play as a repeating episode of a television marathon. The gilt Christmas star on the top of the tree was shimmering its goldest eye-catching pigments. The galore Christmas balls which embellished almost every tree's branch were a decent bonus. The multicoloured garlands from ordinary red to violet's nuances glimmer was beaming directly into the eyes as lasers. Additionally, the Christmas lights as red, yellow, green and blue with the essential colors were shining in diversity versions whether taking turns or shining altogether.

The scenery was not only elating for the former sister of the church, further, for her love child as his big hazelish-brown orbs gawked the Christmas tree in awe, cooing absently as his mother nuzzled her nose tip gently against his earlobe, chuckling hoarsely.

"That's how the Christmas morning is embracing us, honey! Shall we check under the Christmas tree what's under it?" The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer enquired rhetorically, earning her son's joyful, welcoming look, inked upon his babyish, adorable face, wriggling ecstatically his arms as he was agitated to discover his Christmas present with his mother along.

"Ya!" It was amidst the fewest words which Edward can spell fluently even with mild hemming in his utterance as his tiny, parchment hand reached for her stray sleek aureate tresses, barely tickling her clothed collarbones as his pulling strength taunted his mother's apprehension, highlighting her enchanting facial features. Meanwhile, the middle-aged lady's heart raced once she felt a tiny hand dragging playfully her stray golden tresses, consequently casting a piercing quizzical stare, aimed at Edward's exuberant face as childish energy and felicity were brightly hyperbolizing the facial features.

"Then let's Mommy and the baby boy check what awaits us as a surprise!" Afterwards Jude peppered her son's plump cheeks with tender, feather kisses as her soft as satin, naturally rosy-coloured lips greased his milky as vanilla facial skin as his temple crinkled as if he was in seventh heaven. The former holy woman waddled impatiently up to the Christmas tree as Edward's elated cooing and babbles were sufficiently audible for his mother, jingling sacred, diverting tunes into her petite, sensitive ears.

Once the native Bostonian sat on her knees past the monumental, extraordinary tree, she held the little boy in one of her arms, poising him, whilst her other solely free hand was occupied with yanking by the crimson envelop one of the boxes, pulling it towards her effortlessly as she vaguely struggled to unbox it until her caramel brown pools were fueled with sheer happiness, humbleness and wonderment as its saturating hues flamed her pools, illuminating her genuine mood at the moment. A beaming, content smile swinged her lips as they curled in a crescent form momentarily. The blonde's flimsy heart not only molted, further, it raced as if she was on cloud nine.

The sight of her first ever received Christmas present especially by judging the one, who has chosen it prominently for her sent her electrifying and elating chills, contagiously relaxing her muscles especially her quivering slim fingers' and knees.

"Aww! Look what Mommy has got for Christmas, sweetheart!" She showed instantly to her son the new sinful, howsoever, indisputably dazzling, seductive silken nightie in wine red with lacy hem as she could already picture how once she tries it or her torso and lower abdomen are being clothed will look. Explicit, unspeakable images tinged her eyelids and a reverie sedated her mind as an acid medicament, severely affecting her mentality and physical health. Little did Judy know how the former Monsignor is supposed to surprise her for Christmas with such sinful and most of all, satisfying present, expressed in giving her an unworn, exquisitely ravishing wine red slip which might earn his salivating greedily berry-coloured lips and goggled chocolate brown orbs, filled with blameless lust, passion and love, blazing them even when he knew her isolating demeanor when it comes up to deeper level.

Christmas was among the holidays or the fewest days in the year, where the atonement was an alternative to heal one another's scars from the past and the mistakes especially the former priest's ones, which were far from easy for being fixed. First and foremost, it was one of the opportunities for the British aristocrat to dumbfound pleasantly even better- spoiling his former lover with a new slip even when he detested to behold her in her old, extravagant silky ravishing red negligee as it was not only worn by the once innocent juvenile nun, but also her essence has already corrupted and caused abhorrent into Timothy Howard's warm, cram-full altruism chocolate brown irises. Horrendous, still haunting as shadows and demons back in the old Briarcliff days when the possessed, now deceased sister of the church, Mary Eunice stole from Jude's boxed paraphernalia the red slip, thus wearing it and the worst of all, robbing the older man's virtue in the eyes of 2 contrasting spirits. Mary Eunice and the Satan's. The juvenile blonde's unarguably innocent, harmless sapphire blue ones as the most lustrous sapphire hue glistened. Whilst the devil's fiendish, darkened as obsidian, insatiably exterminating pools were venomous even more venomous than the serpent's venom, lingering on the top of the snakelike, subtle tongue.

"Mama!"

"Yeah, baby boy!" One more doting, delicate peck daubed the infant's creamy, pale as ghost forehead as soon as her lips contacted the baby, mossy skin as she folded gingerly with her adroit, long as piano keys the wine red negligee without leaving tracks of plications, in fact, giving piece of evidence for shoddy folding. "It's high time to find out what's yar Christmas present too, Edward!" Shortly after she folded her gift, she raked encouragingly with her fingers his sparse, dark hair, running them through the soft strands.

When the middle-aged woman was about to snatch by the navy blue enveloped box, all of a sudden light, however, perfectly recognizable masculine footsteps echoed in the living room as they were obnoxiously oblivious for the former nun and the love child.

"Morning, Jude!" Shivers were sent down her spine and body of apparent apprehension and nonplus were the solely describable conditions as the smile froze across her lips as she and Edward turned to Timothy, who was still dressed up in his pyjamas, hugging his yet appealing, toned body as his chocolate brown eyes glinted the warmest chocolate as his mammoth, smooth as cream hand pawed his love interest's shoulder, crouching down behind her. His warm breath promptly slightly tickled her cheeks and incessantly flapping as butterfly wings long eyelashes. In the interval, the older woman's heart froze as its heart beats not only hammered in her chest severely with great pressure, but also pulsated its heart beats into her ears, numbing the further sounds."Merry Christmas, Jude!" His berry-coloured, dry lips hardly brushed her earlobe as she instantly reacted, not allowing the temptation to consume her as she flinched.

"Dada!" Edward whined in rejoicing manner as his thin, baby pinkish lips curled in addressing his father, stretching his wee, brittle arms. A megawatt, childish smile hugged his lips as he longed to be scooped in his father's embrace too, besides his mother's one.

"Morning, Timothy! And Merry Christmas to ya too!" Meantime, the former holy woman heaved a jaded, vexed, dramatic sigh, flaring her fragile lungs as its oxygen surged abruptly her breathing organs.

"Do you like your Christmas present?"

"I do!" A sincere, smug smirk honed up in the corner of her lips at his question, stroking gingerly, delicately their little sweet ray of sunshine's head as the fingertips smeared the dry softness of its skin. "It's time to check Edward's present. I'm sure he will have a lovely one."

As soon as Judy handed to her former lover their love child, subsequently she unpacked the impending present as it was for Edward Ralph as her honey brown pools were met with a plush teddy bear as her gape was in awe as much as her jaw mildly contracted.

"Mama! Dada!" The little boy evoked in honeyed voice as his big hazelish-brown orbs were contemplating the plush teddy bear, yearning to scoop it into his embrace, sensing borderless security and affection in the former Monsignor's strong, muscular arms, bracing the small framed baby.

"Ya like it, my love?" Judy handed the light brown teddy bear to Edward, showing it as he swiftly figured out he was tremendously fond of it, enveloping his heart in boundless warmness, love and ultimate felicity.

"I'm sure he likes it since he seems doubtlessly euphoric, Jude! It's from both of us for him with a lot of love."

"I know. But I'd like to thank ya for the present which ya gave me."

"No need to! So it's my turn to open my gift, if I'm not mistaking?" The former man of the cloth's agonizing vacillating was one of the most infectious moments for him especially in order to make the better, more beneficial decision. In the meanwhile, he placed down on the carpeted flooring Edward as he snuggled it as its nose was buried in the crook of his neck, imitating a bearhug.

"Correct!" Judy raised an arch of her elegant, well-defined eyebrow in quizzical manner, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip as it curled. "Yar turn, Tim!" She resumed her caution in embolding manner, chewing her upper lip reluctantly, while Timothy pulled the unboxed yet box, consequently unboxing it as he was in awe once his stare laid eyes on a velvet, classy, onyx tie which would perfectly match with his somber suits. "Do ya like it? Huh?"

"I do, of course, Jude! It's wonderful."

\- A Couple of Hours Later or So -

It has been a couple of hours since the unwed, nonetheless inseperable, compact family have opened their presents and euphoria deluged their emotions and feelings.

At the moment, while the former holy man was watching with criminal ginormous nostalgia his childhood and youth years Polaroid photographs in his photo album, Judy and Edward were in the children's room as the middle-aged mother was spending time with her son after changing his diapers a few days today and breastfed him. She was relishing the moment of playing with the young boy.

Meantime, the infant was snuggling his light brown teddy bear constantly as if it was his solely important thing in this world, cooing inwardly, cheerfully to himself, while the blonde was manipulating the car toy with a couple of fingers as it plastic wheels trundled on the carpeted flooring, imitating a real life car, pursing her lips unwillingly.

"And here comes the car, Edward! Honey, prepare for the," As Jude was about to continue her exclaimation, her sentence abided unfinished as Edward commenced to blubber bluntly, impulsively, uncontrollably as if the things weren't alright at all in no time. Even more Judy couldn't put her finger on it as the answers, she was looking for her son's spontaneous weep were unanswered even invisible yet.

Little did she know what his weep masked eventually as her guesses were genuinely keeping her wits about his hunger, exhaustion or rather his physical needs. Neither of these alternatives were the true response to the question.

"Shu, shu, shu, Edward! What's going on, my heart?" The middle-aged lady scooped in a warm, kindhearted hug the young boy as he cuddled in his recent, nevertheless, obsessing toy, feeling his mother's protective, loving fingers caressing his soft as silk head, in order to soothe him along with her velvety, however, firm Bostonian voice. "Tell Mommy what's bothering ya!"

"Mama! Dada!" Even when the baby's vocabulary was limited for three-month-old only but his words spoke volumes, hence, persuading his mother the things were out of control and at last but not least, the concept of Edward Ralph's parents of still unwedding and at times, demonstrate their hostility towards one another especially when they have disagreements. Further, Judy ideally comprehended her son's babbling as at first her thin, well-shaped eyebrown crinkled in perplexion.

"What about us, honey?" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer's lip curled in posing the question as she was shushing in satin voice to the baby, whose cries subdued, fortunately. In the interim, the mother and the baby boy's hearts ached as the young boy was heartbroken, due to the fact, his parents weren't wed yet and most of all, having verbal clashes as if they resembled a drama movie scenes. Even Judy's heart ached, factly, she readily comprehended Edward's sorrow over their relationship status, highly affecting it.

"Mama! Dada! Love!" Love was amid the fewest words which the little boy has learnt since his 3 months existence. Perhaps because of its complex, arcane significance. Or because he liked the word, itself. Or he associated it with everything he liked and loved especially his parents' toxic relationship with its brilliantly vast potential to be healed and recover from one another.

"Aww, my Edward! Mommy and Daddy are still working on their relationship. I'm trying my best

All of a sudden, the phone in the bedroom was ringing as the middle-aged woman and her son were all ears.

"Mommy will check momentarily who's calling!" At the moment, the blonde got from the carpeted flooring, swinging her baby son in her secure, loving arms as she was walking away from the children's room and marching up in her bedroom until she seated on the edge of the bed and grabbed the earpiece as it was clung to her ear. "H-Hello? Who's calling?"

"Hi Judy! It's Maddie!" The younger lady's voice echoed through the earpiece, whilst Edward was playfully fondling Judy's jawline with his elvish, pudgy fingers, admiring her ethereal grace. Even more the bedroom's door was opened askew as the other surroundings for the former nun were obviously oblivious even Timothy's.

"Madeleine! Aww, darling! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas to ya too, Judy! How are ya?" The younger blonde inquired casually as Judy bit her lip when the infant's high-pitched babbles were even audible for Madeleine.

"I'm well!" Mirthful chuckle tickled the corners of her mouth, scratching uneasily her scalp with her medium sized fingernails as they were manicured in black and silver. "I'm celebrating Christmas with my brother and parents even when they aren't getting along but that's the only alternative we have. To unite altogether on the Christmas day and be happy instead huffing, bickering each other like rabid dogs and yeah." In the interim, Madeleine paused as she cleared her throat, seconds before clearing her throat, whilst the blonde took a deep breath. "And how about your Christmas, Judy? How about the little one who I just heard babbling and whining?"

"Ah, it's fine! Edward seems ecstatic to hear that Mommy is speaking to ya even when he's supposed to be bashful, when there are nigh strangers, occupying his territory." Suddenly the girl's smile froze as its frostbite congealed her radiant, demure smile, distorted across her lips as her heart sunk at Judy's last words about Edward. "However, feel special, Maddie! Because he became quickly fond of ya and we're celebrating damn good Christmas!"

"That's good! Does the little gentleman want to say anything to Maddie?" Right in the end of her questioning, Madeleine imitated in jeering manner her voice as if it wasn't particularly hers.

"He wanted to say Merry Christmas even if his vocabulary is limited, because he's three-month-old baby only."

"Yeah, that makes sense for sure!"

\- _6 Days Later_ -

\- _31st of December, 1965 _-

A couple of days have passed since Christmas and its hallowed holidays.

In the past days, Judy invested with Timothy's help money in repairing the dilapidating cabin as she has galore ideas what she's going to do with the unowned yet property as Madeleine is already a participant in her initiative.

The one-story façade was acquiring not only far-fetched results of its upkeep, moreover the walls were painted as the window's scrapped, once forming a pile of glasses on the ground were fixed. Even more the one-story property was adorned with a couple of furniture such as a hardwood, oak bureau, 2 chairs, a handful of oil painted, esthetic pictures of famous artists in the previous centuries hanging on the mist green walls. At last but not least, sea of flower pots with flowers and plants were on sale as they have labeled prices on the flower pots, themselves.

The flower store opened its doors for first time just a few days before New Year's Eve since Judy, Timothy and Madeleine were investing remarkable quantity of time in painting the walls, embellishing the interior and choosing what to offer the imminent, first clients.

As the New Year Eve has approached, reckoned as the last day of 1965, the middle-aged mother was in the kitchen with Madeleine and Timothy as she was focused on cooking and baking, preparing the kitchen table, while the young boy was gawking how his parents were collaborating in the cooking and baking process as he couldn't help but smile at the thought of their reunion. His brittle, howsoever, inescapably doting heart melted at the sight as reverie was tranquilizing his train of thoughts with pictures of his parents being a marvelous couple even being wed and spending more time together rather than separated as if they were the biggest foes to one another and contempt, abhorrent were enveloping their hearts.

In the meantime, the television was playing a live concert as it has been a half an hour since its beginning.

"_Sick at heart and lonely, deep in dark despair when you want her only, tell me where is she where? And if she says to you, that she don't love me! Just give her my message, tell her of my plea!_" Yardbirds' were actually the band that was performing on live as the vocalist's silver-tongued voice accentuated on the lyrics.

Even when the older woman was utterly focused, attentively kneading the floured, shapeless caramel cookies with her dexterous, elvish hands, the song's lyrics was sufficiently audible for her, nauseating her at the thought of its song's genuine gist as it framed her relationship with Timothy and being addressed to the British aristocrat to analyze even assimilate the song's lyrics, associating it with his rara avis.

Swarm of butterflies assaulted her stomach as she has thought of her former lover and associating him with the lyrics of Yardbirds' song that was recently playing on the live concert on the television. Even when the Bostonian was concealing the paradoxal, accursed feelings she had for the former priest, storing them in her cemented heart, she was afraid and dithering whether is it a good idea to make a revelation about her feelings impetuously, await the ideal moment or anticipating the British compatriot to be the one, taking the first and farther step.

As soon as the both adults finished with baking and cooking as Judy refrained to throw up when she was in the middle of the process, she excused herself to the bathroom, whilst the younger man promised to supervise Edward Ralph during her absence.

When the former holy woman towered the stairway for the second floor as she was nauseating, she stormed off in the nearest bathroom, thereafter kneeling against the toilet seat as she fisted her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood gilt curls, while her other hand held the toilet seat, aiding her to balance her poisture as she cocked forward her head, commencing to throw up as the chunks of her recently consumed food from a few hours ago, lunch and breakfast mingled.

Shortly after that, the blonde stepped out as her knees were clung to her chest, wiping with the back of her petite, creamy as cream hand her slimy lips and then nostrils, seconds later extended her hand to twist the faucet and wash her hands without rising from the floor as salty dew amalgated moistness in her fragile, caramel brown irises, verging bitter tears to spring up and roll down on her cheeks as rain.

"Why Timothy are ya doing this to me? Why?" Sniffles even sobs interweaved along with the storm of crystal, bitter tears, gushing down her porcelain, pale as ghost complexion as they were drenching almost every inch of her facial skin. In this moment, she twisted the faucet as the jet water no longer ran, whereas the former woman of the cloth's tear stained face was buried in her knees, soaking her dress's hem. "Why are ya poisoning me with yar charming face and everything about ya? You are toxic!" The blonde clenched her hands into balled fists, squeezing her halo ringlet's honey scalp as her damp fingers combed tresses between her fingers as they twirled as spaghettis. She curled into a ball as her high-pitched cry wasn't underestimated by the former man of the cloth, who was still downstairs and expecting his love interest to arrive within less than 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, Timothy's inquisitiveness escalated as he wanted to check on his rare bird whether if she was alright and why it was taking her so long to flee the bathroom as less than 5 minutes were left until midnight and marking formally, triumphantly the new year.

When he imposed stairway without delay, Timothy politely tapped on the door a couple of times, keeping Judy's wits about his presence as he was in front of the lacquered wooden door, hearing her irrepressible sobs, swimming in the bathroom's background as his heart sunk.

"Jude! Jude! 5 more minutes until midnight and the new year! Is everything alright?"

She didn't reply, nor reacted as her sobs proceed as they looped ringing requiems in the former member of the church's ears. A few more door raps as they were rougher and louder unlike moments ago.

"Judy! Please, answer me!" A quarter a minute later he determined to open the bathroom door as he beheld his rare bird in vulnerable condition, which he loathed more than the mistakes he has ever done. "Oh my! Rare bird, is everything alright?"

"Please, no! Oh God!"

"I'm here, Jude!" All of a sudden, the younger man could smell the reek of nausea as he tucked a couple of stray strands behind her ear, throughout wiping with a thumb her salty tears as they baptized his fingertips in moistness as he shushed very softly to her, whereas his other free, larger one took her petite one, fitting ideally as he met her puffy, reddish eyelids which he yearned to pursue, locking up her glassy, blank gawk as her sobs subdued. "Oh my goodness! Your eyes are so puffy and reddish. We shall rinse them with some fresh, cool water along with your mouth and nostrils." As he squeezed her hand, encouraging her to stand as shortly afterwards, he twisted the faucet, rinsing her mouth, nostrils and eyelids with the cold jet water as their manipulated reflections reflexed on the mirror, hanging over the sink. "You nauseate 3 months after you gave a birth to our sweet ray of sunshine. Hasn't that to do either with your food consume or anything else?"

The truth was Timothy knew right away Judy was head over heels in love with him all over again, nonetheless she was hiding it from him, due to fear of rejection, whilst his reaction might contrast her expectancies. 2 completely different versions collided as whirlpools of fantasies in the former holy woman's mind along with the former holy man's.

As soon as they fled the bathroom as the television was currently playing a different channel with the current American president, who delivered his New Year's message to the millions of viewers, the 10 seconds commenced to be counted out loud as ticking of an antique, tall clock.

"10, 9," In the meantime, Judy squeezed firmly her former lover's hand as she funk he will release it sooner or later as soon as they descend the stairs. Their heart beats accelerated as playing children in the yards as ivory, cheerful smiles smeared their lips as they were eager to welcome altogether the forthcoming year. "8, 7, 6," The former members of the church have already cascaded the stairs in ease as the thumb of Timothy's hand kneaded gently, lovingly the back of his love interest's hand. "5, 4," The heart beats were as vigorous as incessant hammering after escaping the most notorious madhouse in the entire city or state as dew of perspiration twinkled their foreheads as they stepped inside the kitchen as Jude took in one of her secure, maternally loving arms the little boy, cradling him.

"Mama! Dada!" Edward earned his parents' happy looks, tattooed upon their parchment, sweaty complexions.

"3," The middle-aged adults cried out loud along with the television voice speaker the final countdown. "2," Meanwhile, the younger man stroke gingerly their baby son's head as Edward babbled jubilantly, giggling inwardly. "1," Thus his mammoth, milky as vanilla hand shifted up to the champagne's unopened, unique bottle as his fingers absently played with the cap. "0... Happy New 1966 Year!"

"Happy New Year, Tim and sweetie!" Oddly Timothy popped up the champagne's cap within seconds, consequently pouring the light alcohol liquor in his and Judy's glasses.

"Mama! Dada!"

"Happy New Year to you too my small lovely family!" In the interval, Timothy pecked an affectionate, feather kisses on the cheeks and temples of Edward and Judy as they melted in the kiss especially the Bostonian.

\- _A Month Later_ -

\- _2nd of February, 1966_ -

As 2 months have advanced in the time, the bigger was getting the love child as he could already utter a couple of words even when the fluency wasn't enough at all.

Furthermore, the former members of the church are still working on their toxic relationship as they haven't even confessed their spellbind feelings they have for one another even when the former nun had conflicting feelings and emotions. Between love and hate, between fear of rejection and fear of impulse, between oblivion and familiarity as the heartbreaks were already known phenomenon for her. Perfectly acknowledged by her and surveyed in the time, due to the immensely bad luck with the representatives of the opposite gender.

In the past 2 months after the flower store became phenomenal, thanks to the both aspiring, hardworking ladies, the clients' number drastically increased within the past weeks as they added a radio, playing a music as a great addition to attract more clients, besides the eye-catching discounts once a week on certain flowers and plants.

First and foremost, Madeleine and Judy swiftly became fond of one another even more as she deemed the juvenile blonde as her own daughter figure even when she was unmarried mother of a baby son. Moreover, the both women got to know each other in the past weeks even more, discovering they were having more similar interests and certain hobbies though their huge age gap. Once a week when they were having leisure time and didn't have additional engagements, subsequently they were either on cafeterias, sharing a coffee and shenanigans or the elder blonde hosting the younger one at home as she met Timothy. Nonetheless, the bizarre thing was Madeleine eventually liked platonically Timothy and opted her best to not mess in their private life even when she readily recognized their deliriously potent, enthralling chemistry they possessed.

At last but not least, the young woman attempted to find any alternatives to persuade her mentor or mother-like figure to get back to Timothy together as couple as she has being told about their past relationship which was one of the closest ones until it plummeted obnoxiously conspicuously. Little did she know how it was possible to not separate them as bond even when the girl used to be once in a romantic relationship 2 years ago and the things ended apocalyptically as she was the one, who was heartbroken to bones. Her past romantic relationship ended a half a year after the romance's beginning.

Timothy paid a visit to the flower store sometimes whenever he wasn't busy with any housework or any other engagements, filling his daily schedule as every time when a male customer entered in the flower store, nothing than exasperation, inexorable jealousy and interminable ire were brewing and cooking inside, despite he tried his best to keep it cool on outside and wear epidemic half-hearted, sparkling smiles, spreading like plague across his berry-coloured, soft as velvet lips. From time to time Edward wasn't accompanying the both females in the store as he was spending time with his father, although the majority of the clients were quickly becoming fond of the almost toddler.

As the early February days loomed on the horizon along with the chilly, snowy weather, as a result of marking the mid-winter episode, the Bostonian and Michiganian were in the flower store, whilst the retro radio was currently playing a song as the both women anticipated for the impending customer in the wee hours of the afternoon.

"_You give me fever (You give me fever) when you kiss me! Fever when you hold me tight (You give me fever)! Fever... In the mornin'! Fever all through the night! Sun lights up the day time! Moon lights up the night!_" The McCloys' song was recently playing.

"I'm wondering yet how long are you going to be still like that with Timothy." Even if Madeleine wasn't a keen fan of the scandals and prying, she was concerned about Judy and Timothy's toxic relationship which hasn't healed to the end yet as they open a new chapter in their endless romance story. "It has been weeks and weeks and now months. I know how heartbreaking it's but I bet you are going to be awesome married couple, trust me! That time will come and he will propose you."

"There won't be any proposes and wedding shit, Maddie! I'm just fed up with being told what to do with Tim since I love and hate him in the same time." Judy hemmed as she didn't have too much to say at the moment, nibbling on the silky skin of her bottom, plumpish mauve lip as she thought of her former lover. His bewitching looks and silver-tongued exclaimations which brightly contrasted the mistakes he has done and the diabolical character traits such as jealousy, seldom irritation and selfishness were the incarnation of the sins and the vileness into her eyes. She just couldn't shake off these graphic images whether she shares the same bed with him or she's actually in the same room with him.

"You don't need to explain yourself, Judy! I want you to be calm and to carry on with your life from where you have started."

"I'm doing it but it's just inescapable to have damned feelings for somebody, whom ya gave him a second chance and ya still love him with every ounce of yar cells and body. What the heck is wrong with me?"

"_I light up when you call my name! 'Cause I know you're gonna treat me right! You give me fever (You give me fever) when you kiss me! Fever when you hold me tight (You give me fever)! Fever... In the mornin'  
Fever all through the night (Wow!)!_"

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, Judy! I'm sure, you're still head over heels in love with the man, who betrayed you, realized his mistakes and most of all, continues to love you even when you hide your feelings, storing them in Pandora's box, full of arcane and paradoxal mysteries." In the meantime, the younger lady heaved a weary, absent sigh from the top of her lungs as its oxygen surged her breathing organs, flaring her nostrils. "He's undeniably handsome, kind and caring gentleman, while you are unique and beautiful! You're made for each other, guys! Come on! Be together or confess to each other what do you feel, spilling the tea instead zipping your mouth as if it's just the silence of the confessions and the inner voices." Meantime, Madeleine stroked delicately her mentor's lion mane of silky aureate tresses, admiring its crispy softness, raking her slim, youthful fingers.

Suddenly, the flower store's door opened as another customer set a foot inside as it was a man in the beginning of his 40s with slightly grizzly, short hair, highlighting his once ebony hairs, followed by naturally fancing caramel brown pools which were casted on the older seller. His megawatt, seductive smile was curled up in the corner of his dry lips as he licked them due to the taunting dryness, coating them as they were smeared in mild saliva. Onyx top hat, black suit and black winter coat were hugging his burly figure. He removed his hat in gentleman manner, bowing in front of the both sellers, winking at the middle-aged one.

"Good day, ladies!" His Italian accent accentuated on the emphasized regular greeting.

"Good day to you, sir!" The both sellers greeted him as one, returning him a sympathetic smile, flashed upon their porcelain, young-looking yet complexions. "With what may we help ya?"

"Hold on a second! Could you please discuss it alone outside, if ya don't mind, ma'am?"

"Of course!" The elder blonde bobbed humbly her head as she followed the middle-aged man as they left the store for awhile, whereas Madeleine was alone with her train of thoughts, prejudices about the leery customer, who just visited the flower store and kindheartedly greeted them.

"_Everybody's got the fever! That is somethin' you all know! Fever isn't such a new thing! Fever started long time ago! Baby, turn on your love light (Yeah, yeah)! Let it shine on me (Yeah, yeah)!_"

"So what's the problem, sir?" Suddenly the middle-aged mother took a deep breath, then exhaling sharply as she was vaguely exasperated, due to the fact, the recent client wants to talk to her in private especially without acknowledging the main topic.

"Ma'am, could ya, please, not address me sir as I'm Cayden Gray?" Meantime, the older lady nodded modestly her head, affirming his words in firm agreement. "Good! Could ya please tell me yar name, pretty?"

"I'm Judy Martin! W-Why?" In the interim, immense distress and girlish bashfulness swathed her heavily throbbing heart in her ribs cage as her slender, long as flute stings fingers absent-mindedly, sheepishly twirled and curled the stray golden curls as sanguine pigments pigmented her cheeks as sweltering heat crawled underneath the facial skin of her well-defined cheeks, attempting to avoid slightly his piercing, hypnotizing stare, aimed at her honey brown irises. "Why ya wanted to speak to me in person, Mr. Gray?"

"I'm not just Mr. Gray, pretty! Just call me Cayden. You just seem sympathetic and open-minded lady, who wouldn't mind to return me a phone call or being invited on a first date." Meanwhile, he handed her a card with his phone number and the address of his current residence as a smug, mischievous grin danced across his subtle, devilish lips. As soon as he handed her the card with his address and phone number, the Bostonian scrutinized as her fingers caressed the carton card, thrumming quietly, eloquently to herself as she had a mesmerizing, breathtaking singing voice.

"A date? Excuse me, aren't ya being busy these days?"

"Not really especially on Friday at 7 o'clock it would be a great time to see each other at my home. Wouldn't ya mind, cupcake?" In the interval, the blonde repress a coy giggle, tickling the corners of her mouth until she felt they weren't alone on the sidewalk at all. She felt like pair of eyes, shadowed even darkened in zealousy, tremendous wrath and unconditional distaste were shooting at the both adults. They were nobody else than Timothy's ones as he was hiding behind the flower store's brick wall of the exterior, without being caught or spotted by Cayden or his rare bird. "Aren't ya actually Italian?"

"Look Judy, my parents are Italian emigrants and they came here in this nice country, because of the vicious war and crysis then. Aren't you actually a Bostonian?"

"Yes, I'm!"

"Hey! What's going on?" All of a sudden, the British aristocrat stood between Cayden and Jude, glaring maliciously at the stranger man, who was striking a conversation with his rara avis, pursing his lips reluctantly as his thick eyebrows furrowed, squinting his chocolate brown pools in disgust and fury. "What first dates? What phone calls?" Fortunately, the former holy woman put the recent client's card in her jeans' profound pockets, chewing her bottom lip in shame, in fact, Timothy was ruining the moment when Judy was hanging out with different man than her once favorite Monsignor. "What's going on, Judy? Is this a client of yours or a pimp?"

"Excuse me, sir! We're having a serious conversation with that pretty lady. Wasn't it coarse of you interrupting us?" The Italian snapped at the British, opting to control his decibels as much as possible as he abided nonchalant.

"Timothy! Did you completely lose your mind? What the hell is this?"

"I haven't. What's all this, Judy? We aren't clowns making scenes in front of your flower store, because of this asshole for seducing you."

"He just invited me on a goddamn date. I'm having my own life, Tim! Don't you ever forget that?" She stood between the men as she wanted to balance the things even when the disagreements were ever-lasting, whispering as she lifted a forefinger into the former member of the clergy's face, grimacing her still stunning, ageless complexion as she gritted her ivory, still firm teeth. "I'm not a little girl, nor a teenager, depending on her stupid parents' decisions. I can date whoever I want." She whispered, hissing as her lip curled.

"If you dare to hurt her, I swear to God, I'll break your nose." In the meanwhile, Timothy clenched his colossal, veiny hands into balled fists, thereafter punching Cayden as he verged to broke his nose as blood dripped from his nostril.

"Timothy, no!"

"Everything is fine, Judy! I'll be fine." Meantime, the former holy man ran away as he didn't give any further explainations about his impulsive intentions of punching Cayden and most of all, injuring his nose as the blonde cradled her customer's shoulders, stepping inside the façade as they earned the young woman's mortified face, clamping with a single hand her mouth.

"Oh my God! What happened?" Melinda asked.

"_I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey! That's what I say! I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction! 'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try! I can't get no, I can't get no!_" The Rolling Stones' song Satisfaction was playing on the retro radio at the moment, whilst Judy ushered the Italian to take a seat on the chair.

"Fricking Timothy punched him and almost broke his nose, besides his jealousy has no borders for trying to talk to this man as he invited me on a date at his home. We should cleanse his bleeding nose in a jiff. We shouldn't leave him like that."

"I'm fine!" Cayden exclaimed stoicly as Jude delved in the drawers for a disinfectant and cotton pad, hence, dabbing the gore nostril in ginger way without pressing too much.

"Do not speak! We're treating your nosebleed!" The blonde was mortified by Timothy's action for punching Cayden in the face and most of all, the consequences were as sinister as a capital punishment.

"I don't need any treatment for my nosebleed."

"Shu, shu, shu, Cayden! We're trying to help ya and save yar life! Just imagine losing a big quantity of blood. Our gooses will be cooked."

"Who was that guy, named Timothy?"

"Ah, a long story, but ya don't need to know for now. He's just an old friend of mine!" The middle-aged lady assured him after dabbing his bleeding nostril as the blood no longer dripped as a gory waterfall, patting affably, faintly his shoulder. "Ya are feeling like a new man as soon as the nosebleed isn't an issue as much as the strength of his fist."

"Why thank you, ladies! You are so kind as I don't know how to express my gratitude for your goodwill and I can count on ya, Judy!" In the meantime, the 3 adults couldn't suppress sniggers, lingering on their tongues. Radiant, vividly angelic smiles swayed their lips in a crescent shaped smile.

"_When I'm watchin' my TV and a man comes on and tells me! How white my shirts can be! But, he can't be a man 'cause he doesn't smoke! The same cigarettes as me! I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey! That's what I say!_"

"You don't need to! I'll be fine. Have a nice day!"

"Thank you and you too!" They waved warmheartedly at the middle-aged client as moments later he vanished in the corner of the women's eyes.


	9. First Date or Kidnap

" Whoa, this accident panicked every ounce of my body!" Shortly after Cayden left the flower store, Judy muttered as she took one of the pots to inspect warily the golden marigolds as golden as her lion mane of old Hollywood silky aureate curls.

The truth was the accident which took its place in front of the flower store as Timothy punched Cayden and horrified his former lover by eavesdropping and surveying the interaction between the eerily leery client and Jude too. Little did she know she was being eavesdropped and watched by nobody else than her former lover in the entire time outside, whose demeanor has drastically changed since she could ideally recall the sweet, affable and concerned gentleman, who got her out of the sinister, dilapidating, old asylum. And now the father of their love child, Edward Ralph, was nothing than a former priest with paranoid and obsessive thoughts of his former lover, plotting to be her boyfriend or even husband, despite they haven't been intimate for months. The ginormously obnoxious jealousy, brewing and cooking inside him was like a venomous potion, inebriating his cells and antagonizing every man, who interacts or dares to speak in face-to-face with his rare bird. Once a representative of the opposite sex was communicating and shows signs of sympathy in the former Monsignor's eyes, nothing than scorching ire and abhorrent were brewing and cooking inside him as emotions, verging to express them.

"Don't be so panicked, Judy! I assure you, everything will be fine and Cayden will be fine after the punch he got from Timothy. Probably he's right!" The Michiganian evoked out as she was sipping her mug of hot herbal tea as its liquid lingered on her tongue, gushing down and resuscitating her organs. An optimistically soothing smile honed up in the corner of the young lady's lips after leaving aloof the mug and patting faintly her friend and colleague's shoulder. "This man has something suspicious behind his identity even if he claims with his actions and behavior he is a sweet gentleman, inviting ya on a first date and giving you a card with his phone number and the address."

"Oh, I swear to God if ya repeat once again Tim is the goddamn right and supporting his action for punching Cayden into his face," As the former sister of the church heaved a jaded, dramatic sigh, flaring her lungs as its oxygen surged her breathing organs when Madeleine reminded her she was strongly supporting the British compatriot's action and his position, her sentence abided unfinished, in fact, the blonde cut her off curtly.

"_I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no girl reaction__! __'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try__! __I can't get no, I can't get no__! __When I'm ridin' 'round the world__ a__nd I'm doin' this and I'm signin' that__! __And I'm tryin' to make some girl, who tells me__!_"

"Judy, I'm trying to protect and advise ya! If you got hurt especially in another toxic or abusive relationship, ya will realize too late I was absolutely right." The Michiganian's lip curled, when she suddenly retaliated, attempting her best to advise and caution the middle-aged mother about the suspicious Italian and his intentions as the smile pottered off on her porcelain, youthful complexion. Friendliness and suasion were vomited in her utterance in the same time as her hazelish-brown orbs blinked, squinting up the flower pot and the adroit, slim fingers of the former sister of the church, idly turning the flower pot.

"To protect me? Ya sound like Timothy's clone or I can hear his voice but in more feminine variant, convincing me to not or to do this." In the interim, the blonde shot a mere, piercing as a cupid arrow glare at her daughter figure, wedging her lips in a purse after finishing with surveying the aureate marigolds.

"I'm not only trying to protect ya, but also he's the man who helped you to have this little precious angel, Edward Ralph. Don't you remember whose life did you change except yars?" Meantime, the former nun's lips popped up reluctantly, placing the flower pot with the marigolds between the crimson tulips and the mint. "Huh? Two men in one house isn't a piece of cake, Judy. They're yar God blessings and be happy you haven't loosen neither of them yet. Cayden won't be part of yar life whether sooner or later. Just figure it out! Swallow it and let this piece of advise imprint in your mind."

"It depends what Cayden will do so that to disappear in the thin air of my life. Timothy should realize I've my own life instead being that obsessed nun, who was like a schoolgirl every time when he was near me."

"Well, by judging Cayden, I can't see anything promising yar safety, Judy! Anyway the first date with him will tell everything and weighing the scales between who's the right and who's the absolutely wrong." The juvenile blonde assured as she was fixing her messy bun with a couple of fingers.

"_Baby, better come back maybe next week__! __Can't you see I'm on a losing streak?__I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey__! __That's what I say, I can't get no, I can't get no__! __I can't get no satisfaction, no satisfaction__! __No satisfaction, no satisfaction__! __I can't get no__!_"

"What makes you to think like that? Are ya judging him for something else than yar instincts are telling ya so?"

"Well, he mentioned that his parents are Italian emigrants as the Italian men don't seem reliable at all. I mean, they're well known for being members or bosses of mafias especially Italian ones. Doesn't it insinuating ya he might be part of these corrupted organizations? "

"You're full of shit, Maddie! I didn't mean to offend ya but not every Italian is involved or has to do with the Italian mafia." Wry, hoarse chuckle zinged the former holy woman's rosy-coloured, soft as velvet lips as she wiped with the back of her hand the thick layer of perspiration, veiling her temple.

\- _A Couple of Hours or So_ -

The hours flew like flock of birds in the wee days of the spring, assaulting and overcrowding the pale sky as the middle-aged woman got back at home from the flower store as she was eager to see her baby son and spend time with him even when her unbelievable hostility with Timothy was still unchanged yet. Or rather Judy's stubbornness, incapable of ultimately trusting her former boss and share every fragment of her grim past including her most licentious secrets.

When the rusty, old key for the front door was put in the keyhole and twisted once as the click of unlocked door kept the former man of the cloth's wits about his once favorite nun's arrival, feeding Edward with baby food, opting to wean him off being fed with his mother's breast and milk which he has consumed for almost 5 months. Despite the both parents' attempts to aid their son to wean off from being breastfed, he was slightly young yet and they gave him some time even trying the impossible for now. Starting from now on.

"I'm home!" The blonde cried out loud as she shut the front door behind her in an ordinary slam, subsequently kicking off her boots and taking off her coat, hanging it on the coat hanger, whilst the sound of footsteps clicked against the kitchen flooring.

What it struck the older woman at first was Timothy's subtle silence, numbing the interior as their sweet ray of sunshine was rocked securely, lovingly into his father's strong, muscular arms, giggling as the little boy was agitated to behold his mother after a half a day's absence, in fact, she was at work.

The silence arched between the both adults as Timothy walked away from the kitchen and cleaning the high seat's table, eyeing glassily with immense bitterness, deluging his chocolate brown orbs which once glinted the warmest chocolate tinge, when he contemplated or glanced at their creation, admiring his ethereal, inescapable grace, inking his facial features.

The former woman of the cloth's lips curled in a heavenly blissful smile as if she was on cloud nine when her hazelish-brown pools were transfixed on Edward as he was the sole reason why she was on cloud nine unlike the man, who rescued her and granted her the utter freedom. The heart beats accelerated rapidly along with the frequency and the megawatt strength, hammering them in her ribs cage and the pulsation directly surged to her sensitive, petite ears.

"Good evening, Timothy and my lovely Edward! It has been centuries since I've seen ya, ya tiny pitch of sunshine!" In the meanwhile, Timothy handed her their baby son without looking into her caramel brown eyes as he was deeply disappointed even ginormously obnoxious jealous for spying her and noting her having a conversation which delighted the both adults even if it was awkward at first.

"Mama!" The young boy evoked euphorically as soon as he dangled his tiny, fragile arms around his mother's neck, cooing merrily.

"I missed ya too, honey! Don't ya know how hardworking is yar Mommy and when she comes back at home, you're like my medicament for my stress and negative thoughts." Meantime, the former devotional sister of the church pinched in playful, mischievous manner her son's button nose as a giggle, quivered the corners of his wee mouth as the sharp exhale, blazing Timothy's brittle lungs as the oxygen swiftly surged his breathing organs. Grotesque, glaring frown distorted across his lips, casting a piercing, fueled with pigmenting zealousy and unheeded.

Zealousy, factly, he couldn't forgive himself for now how his rara avis was interacting to a stranger man and she acts as if nothing has happened after Timothy verged to break Cayden's nose when she was back at home, focusing her utter attention to the baby son instead her savior.

Unheeded, due to the fact, he was feeling like a third wheel in Judy and Edward's company and bearing a semblance of a lurking ghost in the two-story house.

"Good evening, Jude! But after you finish with feeding our ray of sunshine, we shall talk a bit personally." The former man of the cloth's lip curled, he insisted tenaciously as allusions of sternness predominated as nuances in his insistence, whereas his face momentarily softened, finding the moment for not the ideal one to discuss with his former lover the events that took its place outside and inside the flower store earlier today.

\- _A Few Hours Later or So_ -

When the former nun breastfed her favorite boy, thereafter bathed him, subsequently changed his diapers and comfy pajamas, laying him down to sleep in his crib, it was high time for her to crawl in the bed since the weariness sedated her body muscles even highly affecting her heavier eyelids as she couldn't blame it since it was almost eleven o'clock. Moreover, the former pious members of the church haven't had the serious conversation they're about to have when Edward was already took care of. Before bedtime, the former sister of the church took a fresh, hot shower. Additionally, Jude wore to bed an oversized, convenient, scarcely worn shirt which once belonged to Timothy as it concealed the stretch marks, naturally inked on her lower and upper abdomen after laboring.

Her halo ringlet of silken aureate curls were ruffled on the pillow, framing ideally her pale as ghost, porcelain complexion which was turned to her right, gradually clenching her eyelids shut, suddenly the door opened as the younger man was about to join her, nonetheless sleeping distanced from one another even if it's on the same bed.

In the interim, the Bostonian heaved a jaded, nonchalant sigh, opting to keep it cool on outside, despite abrupt vexation and unholy revulsion were brewing and cooking inside her, testing her patience whether if she's ready to erupt them as a volcano since it won't solve anything even Timothy's unconditional jealousy.

"Judy, we shall talk as we mustn't break this promise from earlier tonight!"

A loath silence arched between adults as the British compatriot joined her in the bed, without violating her personal space, meeting her bland, apathetic look as her eyelids were widely opened without promptly shutting them like blinds.

"What exactly concerns ya, Timothy? What do ya want to discuss right away?"

"I owe you an apology for earlier today when I punched that man and the humiliation. I didn't truly mean to do it but he looks like trouble into my eyes." Seconds before the commencement of the British aristocrat's monologue, he exhaled sharply, earning his former lover's attention in no time as she was all ears attentively to listen his intentions, without darting to peel a single word, in order to disrespect him. "I was impulsive and you tore my heart into thousand pieces, Jude!" Even if the heartbreak was on his very top feeling that was clung to what he felt whether currently or since the beginning of the day, the former saintly Monsignor couldn't help, but share his pain and heartache since he wanted to open a new chapter. A new chapter of his relationship with Jude and try his best to repair the things even focus on fixing the metaphorical toxicity that oozed of their current relationship.

"Well, yar sorry for punching the man, who you even didn't give him a name? His name is Cayden. What's this kind of disrespect for the gentleman?" The blonde started brabbling her former boss rhetorically, verging to bare her teeth as beast in self-defensive mode, squinting her fagged caramel brown pools at him as sharp as cupid arrows, aimed to the target and subsequently marking a bullseye. "Anyway ya are blaming yarself for the impulsivity which looked sincere at the moment when ya almost broke his nose."

"I'm sorry, Jude! But I didn't have on my mind his name until you reminded me. It wasn't intentional this punch at all." In the meantime, the former priest took the middle-aged mother's creamy as satin, milky as snow hands into his larger, secure ones, although her protests, howsoever, it surprised him she wasn't powerful enough to escape his hands. "Every person has impulses and whether if he or she can't control them, sooner or later they regret for what their initial instincts have told them so."

"It's true but am I a nun you to repent for yar wrath since the wrath is considered a sin, Timothy?" The older lady hissed with her serpentine tongue as unreserved venom lingered on it, ready to envenom the imminent victim. But what the she relished more than Cayden's sweet talking and his first date concept that froze her whirlpool of thoughts, incapable of thinking clearly, was Timothy's both mammoth, veiny hands grasping her petite, soft as velvet ones.

"There's a big difference between wrath and the impulses, brewing and cooking inside you and regretting them later." At the moment, the thumbs of his hands kneaded gently, lovingly the backs of her hands, in order to alleviate her when electrifying and paradoxal paroxysm contaminated her muscles and bones as if they were more sinful and longing than the sweet, sinful taste of the alcohol, lacing her tongue and seared corners of her mouth. "However, if you're about to date this guy named Cayden, you should better be careful what you wish for and most of all, if the chemistry between both of you proves that you're made for each other."

"Ya have bad feelings about him?" Meantime, the former aspiring, stubborn holy man bobbed his head, affirming her just posed rhetoric question as his berry-coloured, luscious lips wedged in a purse. "Why, tho?" The middle-aged woman seeked the answers she was looking for in a velvety murmur, jingling into his ears.

"He doesn't seem the gentleman he claims to be with his behavior and manners, Judy! I doubt it you will be safe with him and you will have a decent future with him, at least." All of a sudden, Judy's face grimaced at his stern, emphatic caution about the Italian compatriot, furrowing elegantly her dark eyebrows, licking reluctantly her naturally rosy-coloured, well-defined lips without interrupting him. Her heart sunk when Timothy speculated predictions behind Judy and Cayden's arcane, unidentified relationship yet since the younger man could smell from miles that everything didn't seem alright and harmonized at first sight especially in the blonde's case after finding and working one of her dream jobs with Madeleine. "There's something suspicious which he hides from you. I bet you will discover it," Meanwhile, she sighed dramatically, half-heartedly, due to the fact she was fed up with listening his cautions about the Italian compatriot, causing her weariness consuming her as shadows of the past of a repenting soul. "No matter if it's now or right on your first date!"

"Ya know what, Timothy! Good night!" In the interval, the Bostonian turned to the other side, without turning her back until the morning after, biting her lip begrudgingly and pretending to sleep, whilst he turned off the night lamps on the both night stands.

\- The Next Day -

\- 3rd of February, 1966 -

The impending morning advanced as quickly as a blizzard. When the both former members of the clergy had a breakfast, they didn't peel a single word since Judy's bile was risen up in her throat due to Timothy's delirious stubbornness and most of all, his council about the mysterious gentleman. Shortly after breakfast, the blonde went to work as her son was already fed, besides his diapers and daily garments were changed.

In the initial hours at work were perfectly peaceful as the both ladies were discussing their daily lives after work until the topic about Cayden and Timothy was raised, engraving abundance of disagreements between the both saleswomen, while the radio was still playing the recent music that just came on.

"_I can't tell what's true__ s__o it's harder to lie__! __I haven't got the proofs__! __My equations run dry__! __I'm in the in between place,__ w__here the seam meets the cloth__!_"

"Well, what's yar problem for who I'm dating and why ya share the same opinion as Timothy's?" The middle-aged mother inquired, attempting to control her voice decibels, moderating it along with the rhythm and without pigmenting it with mild vexation. "Ya really think alike as if I'm hearing Timothy and his female younger version telling me who could be behind the mask of Cayden." At the moment, as she progressed with her monologue, blinking incessantly her brittle eyelids, squinted up at the young blonde's hazelish-brown pools, then her colleague heaved a sharp exhale and clearing her throat seconds before it was her turn to peel a word.

"I just share the same point of view as Timothy. Don't ya remember what's my opinion on the Italians especially those gentlemen like Cayden?" In the meantime, Jude nodded humbly, docilely nodded her head, affirming her words as she recalled ideally every word from yesterday. "Good! Make sure to discover by yarself the hints of dubiousness on yar first date with Cayden! Study his manners and the environment where is going to take its place tomorrow tonight!" The Michiganian advised wisely as Judy furrowed her eyebrow as an aggravated teenager, whose parents incessantly tell her what she should do or not to do exactly.

"It's going to take its place at his home." The middle-aged woman assured, rubbing gently with her fingers her temple, making sure she was ultimately mediating when the pressure was escalating especially discussing the stranger man. 

"Even better!" Madeleine emitted a cold-blooded, sarcastic chuckle, tickling the corners of her mouth as her mentor raised an arch of her eyebrow elegantly, subtly. "I'm absolutely sure his home or whatever is wouldn't be a warm welcome for ya. Just inspect anything behind the doors of every room whenever you have the chance or to excuse yarself for awhile. Take yar time to realize what a monst-" When the juvenile blonde verged to resume her caution as her lip curled, all of a sudden her mentor cut her off curtly, consequently abiding her sentence unfinished, followed by a dramatic, dissatisfied and sardonic giggle.

"Do not ever call him a monster, Maddie! We don't even know what he might be through or what he has been through those years."

"But you don't even know what his little hobby might be expressed in or what he exactly calls art, in his opinion."

"_Where the lily pad's face__! __Shines up out of the bog__! __I've still got my mind__  
My body, and my heart__! __I can still be unkind__! __I can still come apart__!_" The music still played in the background as the vocalist's eloquent chanting accentuated on the lyrics.

"Look what, Maddie! I and Cayden have spoken on the phone the last night and this morning before work but the fricking Timothy found out in the wee hours of the morning, telling me I'm late for work." The elder blonde mimicked the last part of her utterance, chewing her lip loathly.

"I totally get it and that's why ya were slightly late for work today!"

"Indeed! And Tim is incredibly annoying as if I'm 15 years old teenager and he's eventually the parent."

"It looks like he's down to earth and doing the best for you even when you show lack of gratitude for what he did for ya and most of all, trying to protect ya from Cayden!" Madeleine emphasized the name of the bizarre gentleman in the end of the sentence as her fingers fidgeted, factly, the former woman of the cloth was getting on her nerves lately especially now. "But I can tell ya something, Judy! Before that, I'd like ya to listen to me."

"So now what, Maddie?" The former woman of the cloth cleared her throat as she shot a swift glance at the door and window, making sure if any customer is about to enter the flower store before the ice was broken utterly.

"I know I'm much younger and these older hags underestimate the younger ones, in fact, they don't have any experience compared to them, however, Cayden will be gone sooner or later. He isn't as important as Timothy and Edward, because they're yar only family ya have now. For example, just imagine if ya don't have both of them. I mean the family and that boyfriend of yars," The young lady paused, inhaling then exhaling abruptly. "And ya need some help and advice, and this family is no longer taking any shit of ya, just because ya were neglecting them and raising on pedestal your boyfriend as if he is the core of your existence." Afterwards Jude's eyelids were shut as blinds, currently reflecting on what her protégé was lecturing her as if she was a wise veteran teacher, who has been through thousands of young, nonetheless reckless and lacking of experience students. The middle-aged mother swallowed hard as a solid lump has formed in her throat.

"_I'm in the in between place,__ w__here the seam meets the cloth__! __Where the lily pad's face__ s__hines up out of the bog__! __Where the line in the sand__ i__s drawn with a stick__!_"

\- _The Next Day_ -

\- _4th of February, 1966_ -

The day flew as quickly as a kite, allowed to levitate in the lucid sky. Friday night came too soon. Sooner than the former holy woman's expectancies and her eager anticipation to be on a first date with the Italian gentleman, who invited her.

When Judy finished her shift at the flower store as she had less than an hour until the first date, she fed Edward and took a quick, refreshing shower to hydrate her epidermis and be laced in mint soap, lathering every inch of her flesh and the skin was as shiny as a shimmering star in the nocturnal sky. Thereafter she stepped out of the shower by dressing up her slender, nevertheless yet curvy figure in a black cocktail dress with long satin sleeves and plunge neckline, exposing partly her bosom and collarbones' milky as vanilla flesh as its hem cascaded her round, perfectly shaped knees.

Throughout the remaining time until the first date, she put on some significant, brilliantly unique and simple jewelries such as onyx earrings, onyx ring on her finger. At last but not least, her legs were layered in black, lacy stockings as its garnets were lacy and seductive altogether, whereas her petite feet were shoed in black knee length boots as an armor against the snow and glacial paths. When she brushed her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood curls, piled up on her shoulders, the Bostonian applied ravishing red lipstick on her upper and bottom lips, subsequently wedging them in a purse until they popped up, allowing the pigment overspread and outlining it.

In the interim, the infant was spending time with his father in the living room as the former man of the cloth was maneuvering the car toy of his sweet ray of sunshine, their laughs and voices diffusing in the two-story mansion, reviving the ambience and numbing the lethal silence. Afterward she sprayed perfume on her neck, wrists, hair seconds before putting on her winter coat and grabbing her purse along with Cayden Gray's card, her I.D card, money and keys.

When the blonde made her own way downstairs, the frequent clicking of the classy stilettos earned promptly the both males' attentions immediately as the former holy man assured his son he will back within seconds, trying his best to not miss the chance to behold his former lover before her first date and her speculated disappearance.

"Judy!"

"Huh?" Suddenly when the native Bostonian was checking her manipulated double reflection on the grand, round mirror in the corridor, making sure she was neat without missing a certain detail.

"Wishing you good luck on the first date and remember one thing!" In the interval, he planted an affectionate, platonic kiss on her forehead, in order to embolden her, meeting her hypnotizing as a seductress gaze, darted to him. "Be careful! I don't want to see you hurt ever again." In this moment, the blonde heaved a jaded sigh as its oxygen surged her igniting lungs, offering him a half-hearted, light smile, swinging across her lips.

"Everything is going to be fine, Timothy! I assure ya." She pawed his shoulder amiably, confidently as she strolled to the front door. "Cayden isn't dangerous at all. Trust me!"

"As you say!" Timothy concluded the sentence as he was about to shut the front door as soon as she fled until she slammed the door and locked it up with a single click. Furthermore, the former holy man superficially agreed with her so that to not resuscitate another bicker between one another just like every time when they discuss the Italian compatriot. "I know what exactly will happen." He mumbled to himself very softly, sighing a sigh of relief. "Come on, Edward! Let's Daddy read you a story!" Once the both males were home alone with their own train of thoughts and prejudices as the clock in the hall was ticking frequently, walking back in the living room and seating on the carpeted flooring.

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

A half an hour later when the blonde was wandering the countryside's snowy and glacial Vermont's streets, glimpsing at Cayden's card address and orientating his residence, suddenly she found a two-story cottage which didn't seem well-groomed even dilapidating with the elapsing time, due to the fact it was a half a century old only. The galore investment in repairing the cottage was necessitating more than thousands of dollars.

The walls' plaster was gradually, effortlessly peeling off the bricks' basics that absorb the walls. The door was wooden, old, howsoever with a couple of scraps, tracing the doorknob and every angle of it. The windows were dirty, sunk in dust with the elapsing time as they haven't been kept clean and shiny as a new car's luminescence for years.

The heart beats rapidly pulsated into her ears as they escalated its own pace, hammering in her fragile, contracted chest as she was approaching the demolishing house. Suddenly the front door opened as the Italian compatriot was garbed in neat, dustless suit with a bloody red tie, taunting her honey brown irises in the darkness. He held the front door for her, whereas his other colossal, veiny hand held behind his spine a bloody red rose, painted with his women victims' blood after storing it in a jar their shed gore. The initial color of the rose was as white as a sheer angel.

"Hi beautiful! You're slightly late." Cayden winked at her gamely, temptingly as a smug, cocky grin loomed on his tanned, parchment complexion, welcoming her with peppering kisses on her cheeks as she melted in the kisses.

"Hi Cayden! Yeah, my bad! I didn't mean to-" The older lady verged to resume her mid-sentence as her ravishing red lip curled until he handed her the bloody red rose with its alluring fragrance, trying to not admire his masculine, fancying perfume and the rose's fragrance in the same time.

"It's okay, Judy! Here's your rose for the lady, who deserves flowers."

"Why thank you?" She nuzzled the rose petals, inhaling the mesmerizing scent, toying her sensitive nostrils, closing her eyes for a split second, whereas Cayden shut the front door and was discarding her paletot, offering her stretched arms. "But that's so kind and sweet of ya, Cayden! It wasn't yar obligation to surprise me with a flower."

The hallway of the two-story cottage was sufficiently expansive with an old coat hanger, dresser, a square, partly broken glass of the mirror, hanging over the low dresser where are stored the shoes and slippers.

"Every lady deserves a flower when she's with a gentleman." A wicked, raspy chuckle echoed his oral caverns when they walked inside the kitchen and the former nun was warmly welcomed with the well prepared dining table such as a bottle of Italian red wine, glasses of poured red wine, pasta and green salad, giving romantic vibes with the lit up candles in the middle of the table.

"Oh whoa! It's so romantically adorned the kitchen table." Jude was in awe, gawking in wonderment the kitchen table when the host helped her to take a seat on the chair, consequently pushing her chair to the table. "It's awfully amazing! Ya did an incredible job, Cayden!"

"Always for ya, beautiful! Don't ya want to listen to some music, whilst drinking and eating, besides spilling the tea?" At the moment, Cayden was standing past the countertop, scratching self-consciously his grizzle scalp with his fingernails, greasing his head.

"No, no, thank you! I like it just like that." The blonde shook her head, awaiting patiently for the gentleman to sit against her and conversate each other on deeper even personal level.

"As ya say, ma'am!" He mimicked in teasing manner the last word, sitting promptly against her as they raised a toast. "Let's raise a toast for this promising first date." When the glasses collided featherly, the both adults sipped their red wines and left aloof the glasses, spending the first minutes in eating and shenanigans. "Well, it's such a pity your friend doesn't give you any flowers or something like that to please ya."

"We've a lot of flowerbeds in our yard. He doesn't need to spend any cash on any rose or anything else to satisfy me." A demure, sheepish smile distorted across her lips, playing absently with her fork and the pasta.

"Aww, you're so modest, Judy! Don't act like that schoolgirl, who is trying to be unavailable for me!" Meantime, the both middle-aged adults couldn't suppress hoarse, cheerful snickers, leaving their lips as souls who have just dwelled out of the immobile corpses. The blonde momentarily ducked her head as muggy heat crept underneath her cheeks' facial skin, tinting them sanguinely.

"I just don't expect what I don't deserve. I just want sincerity and that's all."

"You got it! But if ya excuse me, are ya married?"

"No! Why?"

"Even better! I'm unmarried yet either, Judy! Sweetheart, do you like the wine?"

Meanwhile, the middle-aged woman chuckled bashfully, nibbling on the silken skin of her painted crimson lip and staring at his abysmal, magnetic coffee brown orbs, finding herself lost into his stare.

"It's good."

"You didn't seem to enjoy it at all. Why, tho?"

"I don't like drinking a lot, besides it's not just for me the alcohol."

"Ah, I see. It's alright, darling! You shouldn't abstaining yourself from the pleasures of this short life." He took one of her petite, smooth hands into his larger, surprisingly lukewarm hand as the epidermis was breezed with electrifying paroxysm, infecting her bones and muscles even baffling her.

"I just told ya I'm not in the drinking and most of all, it's a long story."

"Ooh! Are ya playing it as a spy, pretty lady?" Suddenly she exhaled finally until the doping pasta and wine utterly commanded her body as unconsciousness consumed her, widening her eyes in the final seconds of her consciousness. "The wine and the pasta were as tasty as the grasp of your tiny hand into mine." The blonde gasped bewildered, collapsing on the wooden planked flooring as he released the grip of her hand as an eerie snigger zinged his lips. "I know what exactly I'm going to do with ya." In the meanwhile, he got from the kitchen table, taking a kitchen knife and tearing off her dress, exposing her half naked torso with her wine red bra, shielding her perky, sore breasts and small, round belly.

Throughout the handful of minutes when the former sister of the church was no longer conscious and having any control over her body, he lifted her weightless body in a bridal lift up to the attic after towering the notoriously creaky stairs and shutting even locking her up in a large sized cage, besides the attic's door as the bloody red rose was put in a vase in the kitchen.


	10. Hell and Heaven

Author's Note: This chapter is long so be prepared for a roller coaster of explicit content such as strong language, gore and attempted rape.

"Come on, Edward! You're supposed to be already asleep." The suddeness of the high-pitched infant cry as it collided like radioactive wave through the four wall children's room tested his patience, once he opened askew the notoriously creaky door. A stern, wise caution zinged his berry-coloured, luscious lips. His footsteps hardly echoed as they were tracing up to the exquisitely lacquered crib, where the infant's high-pitched cries swam in the background, keeping his father's wits about his insomnia.

"Mama!"The young boy felt powerless, factly, he was home alone with his father solely and most of all, the final moments before kipping, the agonizing thoughts of his mother's absence kept him awake for longer than the usual. Pair of mammoth, affectionate hands lifted him up from his crib, consequently scooping him in a warm, loving embrace.

"Shu, shu, shu, little sweet Edward Ralph! Mommy is on a date and she should be back soon." The former holy man attempted to alleviate his crying as his shrilling whines subdued abruptly, resulting his presence and compensation of Jude's absence to ultimate success. The tip of his nose nuzzled his baby son's button, wee nose, giggling quietly, jubilantly as he stretched his tiny, pudgy arms in the air. Even when Timothy tried his best to keep it cool on outside at the thought of his former lover's first date with his dislike, nonetheless the notion of humongous fury and disquietude were already sensed sensorially. Electrifying paroxysm sedated his body muscles and bones at the thought of what's capable of Cayden especially when it comes up to hosting his love interest at his old, dilapidating home. "Don't you want a bedtime story at least? Or to sing a lullaby, honey? Huh?" He rocked him in his scooped hug as a benevolent, doting smile bloomed upon his parchment, creamy as velvet complexion.

Even as a five-month-old infant only, Edward Ralph, perfectly even oddly comprehended the aversion that his mother was having of her former lover, besides it unconditionally frustrated him. What her had a yen for was their marriage or being entirely united as a couple, regardless how many times they held grudges, allowing their bile rising up in their throats, the inflammatory squabbles what's the right or what's the wrong, due to the fact, the British compatriot was exceedingly jealous when Judy was socializing with other representatives of the opposite sex even showing wee or rather breezily hints of liking. Even when they had disagreements, he had overthought how it would be better if he was a stranger man and they never knew one another and he was either in Cayden's shoes or another gentleman, who was not only honeyingly talking to her, moreover smiling genially to her and childish, joyous giggles zinged her rosy-coloured lips as a timeless, translucent soul dwelling off a mortal's corpse.

Instead of replying with another notoriously screechy whine or a squeal, he crinkled his button nose, motioning his baby pinkish lips when the little ray of sunshine was being swing in his father's hug, cooing and babbling joyfully even when cues of sorrow oozed of him.

First and foremost, the British aristocrat has decided to wait a half an hour more until the wee hours of midnight loom on the horizon, subsequently calendar the day after. If a half an hour elapses sooner or later, his murderous, gruesome concern for his rara avis would escalate and lead to even try his best to find the bastard's address, where is taking its place the first date and snatch Judy from his grip, no matter what kind of intentions the Italian compatriot had as they concealed criminally morbid hazards, menacing her and her life in general. If on the contrary Timothy didn't find the source for Cayden's personal information, otherwise he would phone Madeleine as his last hope friend, questioning her over the former sister of the church's disappearance and then go together in the police station as they knew the suspicious man's name solely unlike his address and so forth.

"Dada!" The young boy mumbled softly, lovingly as his tiny, warmly smooth hands pawed the former member of the church's plump, milky as ghost cheeks as his fingers greased the facial skin, cherishing the paternal love and spending time with his father.

"Aww, Edward! I bet you would like a lullaby or a bedtime story. Which one?" In the meanwhile, the infant gestured with a thumb his official choice. A lullaby won't hurt him at all. It would rather heavenly sooth him and enforcing him ultimately to fall asleep, suppressing the insomnia and its shadowy demons, dissipating him from slumbering regularly. "So you'd like a lullaby, right?" A humble bobbing of his head in agreement finally persuaded the former aspiring Monsignor, setting free a merry, inward chuckle, dancing on his tongue and throat. "Good! You got it, my little angel!"

As soon as the former holy man took a deep breath then clearing his throat reluctantly, the little boy anticipated eagerly for his bedtime lullaby to jingle its genuine nuances in its vocals into his ears.

"_Twinkle twinkle little star__ h__ow I wonder what you are__ u__p above the world so high__ l__ike a diamond in the sky__! When the blazing sun is gone__! __When he nothing shines upon__!_" At the moment, the middle-aged man cradling gingerly, dotingly his baby son, whereas lulling to him, walking around the children's room, tiptoeing merely the slippers scarcely clicked against the floor. Meantime, his warm chocolate brown pools, fueled with sheer love, innocence and concern were transfixed on Edward's face, contemplating and admiring his ethereal beauty, highlighted in his inherited facial features from his both parents. He could see a part of him. His creation partly masked into his father's identity especially physically. "_Then you show your little light__! __Twinkle, twinkle all the night__t__hen the traveler in the dark__! __Thanks you for your tiny spark__, h__e could not see which way to__go__If you did not twinkle so._" Suddenly the infant's eyelids ounce was cementing, throughout his body betraying, as a result of the soothing lullaby that rung its angelic, hallowed anthems into his ears and finding himself quickly falling asleep, being spellbind by its power and energy, accentuating its lyrics. His fragile eyelids were gradually blinking until they utterly fluttered shut in slits form.

It has been a half an hour since the former devotional woman of the cloth was senseless even has passed out, during dinner time with Cayden.

All of a sudden, a mild headache was agonizing her as she laid on something inescapably, unarguably heavier. It didn't feel like she was lying on an ordinary floor. Something like steel or iron was contacting her frail skeleton. The stiff air flared her nostrils as the reek of mold and blood interweaved, causing her to nausea since she loathed the reek of gore and that was the reason why she fainted after defending herself against the murderous Santa Claus.

Little did Judy know about her current location until she came to her senses, opening her eyelids, misty blurriness clouded her vision as somber pigments tinted. Groans escaped her lips as prisoners from their prison cell, thus shaking her head to amend her vision promptly and without an ado.

In the meantime, her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses was ruffled on the ground, shaping the gilt sun that brightly contrasted the partly pitch-black attic.

"Where the hell am I?" Another groan lingered on her tongue as her vision was clearer, capable of surveying her surroundings as a television was past the cage, playing on a late-night television program with an interview about the atheism and possible Antichrists in the 60s. Perhaps an old, mold oak wood dresser was in the left wall's corner of the attic as its drawers were untouched. Paintings with gore and horror ones, painted by artists in the previous decades and centuries hung on the wall. Or perhaps, they weren't exactly painted by the old school artists.

The middle-aged mother didn't know Cayden, probably her kidnapper was an extraordinarily talented artist. She hardly knew anything about his early life including his hobbies. He was like the Pandora's box. Full of paradoxes. Full of surprises. Full of mysteries. Full of prejudices. Full of shadows. Full of demons.

Once the blonde got from the iron ground, she sighed in ginormous disappointment and panic when she discovered she was imprisoned in a large, iron cage. Her heart raced when the Bostonian felt her feet contacting the cool, iron flooring and it was glacially cold in the attic, itself. Even the interviewer's voice was giving her chills, rendering the atmosphere eerier. All alone in the loft. All alone in the darkness. All alone with the murderously eerie television program.

Once her caramel brown irises lowered to discover if there are possible items to aid her to escape the iron cage, the vigorous heart beats that hammered in her chest incessantly as her eyes widened rapidly at the sight of her town off dress as the flesh of her bosom and round, small belly with its naturally inked stretch marks on its abdomen were exposed. They were as exposed as widely opened book pages. Electrifying, flustering heat crawled underneath her stark skin as goosebumps smeared every inch of her milky as satin and vanilla flesh.

"How is this possible? Did I accidentally torn off my dress?" The former sister of the church muttered rhetorically herself, stretching widely her brittle arms in the air, chewing her bottom, plumpish, smeared lip as she shrieked. Dark blood splattered the cage's floor.

When her elvish, frail hands fiddled all over the cage until a hole in the upper part of the cage hinted her to rip it off and subsequently climb over the cage's fence. As soon as the blonde escaped from the locked cell, she stepped on the infamously creaky wood planked flooring, researching every drawer for something useful to gather it in her limited inventory.

All of a sudden, she found in a flashlight in one of the drawers, consequently turning it on as it gleamed at the door.

When the former saintly nun tiptoed up to the paintings, scrutinizing them with a simple eyeing within a quarter a minute per a picture, suddenly she could hear heavy footsteps, emanating from the profound, ebony hallway. At the moment, she wedged her lips in a purse, rolling her eyes at each corner as the television's volume was the sole sound that was muting any further sound along with the succumbing silence. The frequency of the heart beats accelerated briskly, throbbing violently in her ribs cage which was the heart's armor.

"Phew! That was so close."

Afterwards she tiptoed up to the nearest door as her petite, trembling hand met the rusty doorknob until she twisted it, opening it ajar, eyeing through the gap as the flashlight's scintillating light illuminated the direct spot of its target. When Judy escaped the loft, her forthcoming destination was the abysmal, almost endless hallway and illuminating with the flashlight every corner of it as spiderwebs encompassed her with dust and the pungent stench of blood and flayed corpses' flesh. The wooden walls were blood-tainted which doubled the Bostonian's chills.

When she explored the corridor, she found a door, leading to a room with a woman's mannequin, a cherry wood bureau with a couple of newspapers, baptized in blood, an antique clock, ticking and ticking frequently. Another collection of bloody pictures, painted by the Italian compatriot, were adorning the walls. It was poorly embellished the room, itself.

Once she snuck up to the desk without making a distracting sound, in case, if Cayden has any intentions of checking her, she read them within less than a minute per a newspaper article about kidnaps of ladies as their age range was between 16 and 50 and something.

An ideal example for one of the newspaper articles the leery man was collecting, caught the former holy woman's eye, perusing attentively each phrase as if she wasn't reading a best-seller thriller.

_Missing 2 young women, due to a mysterious kidnap_

_13th of October, 1962_

_2 young women, between the age range 19 and 34, were viciously kidnapped by the notorious kidnapper and serial killer in the middle of the night. It takes its place in one of the most desolated parks in Vermont. What is known for the both disappeared women was they were lovers for a year and the perpetrator's name is actually Cayden Gray, known as the molester, murderer and malicious kidnapper. _  
_At last but not least, the police is still looking for Cayden Gray, despite the lack of evidence for the found bodies._

As soon as the former member of the clergy was already informed about the Italian compatriot and his discreetly vicious crimes he has committed via the newspaper articles, subsequently she couldn't suppress the whirlpool of obnoxious disgust, disappointment and ire whirled each cell, each bone and every muscle of her body. Contagious shivers and paroxysm consumed her identity as she could no longer behold behind Cayden's mask the gentleman he claimed and behaved fell off his face at last. Eventually his genuine identity was exposed which no longer was concealed or an unholy mystery for her. Galore questions were already answered as its answers were assimilated in a handful of piece of evidences, alluding her. The newspaper articles. The place where she was conveyed after Jude fainted and being sedated. The relentless shed gore, expanded in each corner of the loft. The bloody paintings.

Even a mere note was found behind the antique, constantly tick-tocking in the numbing silence. A handful of blood stains were puddling the sheet of paper. Once Jude found her pair of hazelish-brown pools eyeing the note far away from her with feet proximity at least, she tiptoed up to the next destination, in order to read it.

"Probably that's one of the victim's final notes!" That's what the inner voice was echoing softly to her as a reminder, motivating her to not give up until she accomplishes what she exactly wants.

Meantime, the middle-aged woman snatched the note from the antique, howsoever, unique clock, scanning its text which was scribbled by one of Cayden's victims who even mentions her own name.

_If you're reading this, you should be warned right away if you're next. The man who kidnapped me is a vicious serial killer, known for women's slaughter, skinning their corpses even using their skin to craft furniture or some other stuff, besides eating their nubile, sweet flesh. Let's not forget he stores their blood in jar and he uses for his paintings and painting roses, if he is about to invite a lady on a date._

_It's my third, last day and I tried and I tried to find any possible way out of the attic, however, I think my days are already reckoned. This man has no mercy. He's twisted. Even if it's just a two-story house he has got, it doesn't look like it's as small as my imagination could keep it in mind at first._

_At last but not least, don't forget to be careful as much as possible! He can hear anything that lurks around his dilapidating house. The slightest sound can taunt him and make him to come to the source that has produced it. Be wise in your choice! Be wisely quiet in what are you able to do, in order to achieve your freedom!_

_Good luck_

_Nora_

When Judy found lost herself in plough through the final note of Nora, one of the Italian compatriot's preys, who was slaughtered before her death immensely loathsome disgust and begetting rancor, in fact, Cayden was involved in such unspokenly malign crimes such as kidnapping, torturing and killing innocent ladies, regardless what kind of people they're actually. Notwithstanding with that he may molested them in each way. Little did the former holy woman know about his preys' number and she guessed there are survivors, who have successfully escaped from him and his home sweet home territory.

Then the former licentious nightclub singer tossed the note, consequently sneaking out of the room and finding the way for the second floor as she hasn't been spotted by him yet.

As the time progressed, it didn't favorably affect him at all. Even his promised patience to wait a half an hour more until his former lover's arrival at home gave him false hopes. Of course, Timothy spent the entire time contemplating the halfly dark cell in the middle of his king-sized bed, pondering his train of thoughts about Judy and what might have happened to her. A couple of questions snapped him out of sidetracking from not doing anything.

First and foremost, is it absolutely certain Judy is in Cayden's house? If yes or no, has he done anything detrimental to her? And last but not least, is his right hand still alive?

Thereafter when premonition corrupted the cells of his functioning whirlpool of thoughts, the last hope he relied on especially a friend of his and Judy is Madeleine.

When he got from the bed, stretching his arms, he ambled up to the dresser, dialing the juvenile blonde's phone number until he clung with his colossal, veiny hand the earpiece, eagerly anticipating her answer within seconds or a few minutes.

All of a sudden, a feminine, young voice snapped him out of his train of thoughts, his chocolate brown orbs glancing at every angle and corner of the bedroom.

"H-Hello?" The Michiganian's tipsy voice echoed which didn't make the older man to giggle, due to the fact his rare bird's welfare was concerning him more than her protégé's tipsiness.

"Hi Maddie! Are you still awake?" The British aristocrat resumed their phone conversation as his lips curled, wearing a grotesque frown, swaying across his berry-coloured lips.

"Yes, I'm. Why, Tim?" The young woman enquired plainly, subsequently sipping her glass of fresh, cool water to reassure the half a glass of whiskey she has already consumed as it laced her tongue and searing corners of her mouth, besides the alcohol defiled her blood and muscles. "Is everything alr-" As she verged to carry on with her rhetorical question, suddenly the former Monsignor cut her off curtly, taking a deep breath before responding her directly.

"Not actually. Judy has been absent since the early evening, in fact, she is on a first date with Cayden!"

"Hold on a sec," In the interval, the young lady cautioned as her older brother, Roman. "I'm sorry, Roman. What were you saying? Oh yeah, I'm speaking to Tim, my colleague's boyfriend."

"Wasn't that your brother?"

"Yes, it's him. He just asked me who I was talking to and yeah."

"But you told him I'm something like Jude's boyfriend."

"Well, isn't that true?"

"I wish it was but her consent says otherwise." All of a sudden, the former man of the cloth ducked his head, eyeing glassily his shuffled feet as he nibbled on the silken skin of his bottom, plumpish lip. His heart sunk, factly, Madeleine deemed them as a couple, regardless Judy hasn't approved the beginning of their romantic relationship they formerly had until the remorseful betrayal.

"It's okay. I'm trying my best to tell her Cayden is the wrong dude for her, whilst ya and she are just made for each other. I can tell by judging that ya have yar baby and the toxicity in yar relationship." Afterwards the Michiganian exhaled abruptly then inhaled quietly until she realized they were discussing Judy and her disappearance for hours. "So we're talking about Jude's disappearance from home if I'm not mistaking anything?"

"Absolutely!" The older man confirmed it.

"So I bet this asshat has done anything to her or has touched her at least." Madeleine confessed as their faces flushed. Sweltering heat crawled beneath Timothy's facial skin of his cheeks, tinging them in ruddy hues. The hottest ruddy hue that might be eye-catching just like the red for the bulls. What was brewing and cooking inside them was sheer spleen and abhorrence. Spleen that the serial killer may has already harmed the elder blonde and allowing her to die slowly in pain as a prisoner of the interminably baleful fate. The former holy woman was actually a prisoner of her childish naivety to permit the Italian compatriot to hide even the deepest secrets about him and scarcely mention anything about himself. Abhorrence, the tireless consequences of Judy's eventual kidnap might result galore scenarios what she is being through.

"For sure but let's hope or believe Jude is still alive. I'd profoundly regret if it's too late." A sorrowful sigh was heaved from top of his lungs at the thought what Cayden is capable of.

"Do ya know where he lives?"

"No! I wish I did know."

"Me neither! Why don't we go in the police station and ask them about the suspicious man's address?"

"That'd be great. But I've a problem."

"Spill the tea, Tim!"

"I have a baby, who is younger than a half a year and somebody should look after it until we get back at home."

"Oh, I knew it for what were ya talking about. It's okay, buddy! Roman can take care of Edward while we're after Judy's tracks to find her."

"Good evening, Miss and Mister? It's detective McShane." The detective was seating on his hardwood desk against his both visitors as they were the sole visitors in the wee hours of midnight, grimacing his face as he sipped his mug of hot caffeine beverage since he was working double shifts. "What brings you here?"

Before the commencement of the former pious member of the church's monologue, he cleared his throat begrudgingly, eyeing sternly, gravely the older man's midnight black eyes.

"Well, we're here for one thing which might take no more than a minute as well."

"What exactly do you mean with this, Mr. Howard?" The detective's baby pinkish lips curled, posing the question coldly, whilst Madeleine's twitchy, quivering fingers were kneading her knees, gawking blankly the older man without peeling a single word. "Is there any problem in your neighbourhood or something else?"

"Not exactly! I'm here to find Cayden Gray's real address of his current residence. It's very urgent!" The younger man insisted persistently, unable to rest for a single second at the thought of Cayden and Judy, shadowing his mind.

"Cayden Gray? Right?" The detective questioned in leery manner as his thick, sparse eyebrows furrowed, snatching the grandiose, thick file with the addresses of Vermont's population, searching for the Italian's recent address, indicating with a fore finger, murmuring every name.

"Mhm!" The both juvenile adults nodded modestly their heads, affirming entirely his rhetorical question.

A handful of minutes later the detective found in bold manuscript the name of the psychopath, buzzing the first initials of his name as a bee.

"Ca-Ca-Cayden Gray! Here is his address, sir and ma'am!" He showed instantly to the both visitors Jude's kidnapper address as the blonde started jotting in her compact notebook Cayden's address at last, whilst Timothy managed up to scratch his head.

"Thanks! But for our whole relief, can it be sent police to the same address to make sure if the things are definitely fine?" The flower store seller inquired politely, licking her lips before the beginning of her inquiry.

"Of course, ma'am! I want to give you a wee piece of information if you want to know a bit about Mr. Gray at least." At the moment, the both younger adults bobbed their heads, attentively listening to the detective. "Mr. Gray is a serial killer, known for killing and skinning ladies, besides kidnapping them, torturing them and using their blood and organs even storing them in jars. But also he eats women's skins."

"I knew it! I knew it, he would be that suspicious."

As the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer explored the second floor, she found in Cayden's bedroom painted bloodily couple of flowers, marking the amount of women victims due to his violence. Moreover, a jar of an azure blue iris submerged in the jar stood on the left night stand, guarding his double bed where the psychopath might have violated even corpses.

When she found a retro, obsidian phone, standing on the right night stand, unfortunately there wasn't a door to shut and lock it so that to prevent from his endangering, lethal presence to acknowledge her escape from the loft. That was like a bear trap for her or much worse. Her worst nightmare.

As she approached the right night stand, grabbing the handset and dialing the police's number, suddenly it was pipping and she felt a larger, callous hand clamping her mouth, whereas his other hand gently maneuvered her petite, smooth hand to adjust the earpiece, shushing in front of her.

"Shu, shu, shu, bad girl! Ya can't phone anybody, in order to come here and investigate each fragment of my property." Shivers were sent down her body and spine of disgust and apprehension. It was too late. Cayden already knows about her escape from the attic. They both knew it with exception of Timothy and Madeleine, who were on their way to the demolishing property.

"What are ya doing here?" She turned to him as he pushed her violently, throughout flumping backward on the double bed, casting a piercing glare, in order to conceal any pigments and inklings of fear. Her heart raced as it wasn't capable of beating regularly, moderately.

"What do ya think I'm doing here, pretty?" All of a sudden, the former sister of the Roman Catholic church bared her ivory, yet firm teeth as a smug, insolent smirk honed up in the corner of his damp lips as gore drops were drenching his upper lip. His chocolate brown pools' genuine nuances were exposed as celestial lust and eerie dominance plagued them. "I'm here to look after the bad girl, who made her own way out of the attic."

"Don't ya ever dare to call me pretty or whatever comes to yar mind, psycho!" He was slowly approaching her, in fact, to chill her to the marrow without any purity in its mercy. The older lady swallowed a solid lump, formed in her throat when their proximity was diminishing gradually. "I know everything about ya. Yar a peculiar monster, who has no mercy for killing and kidnapping innocent women even storing their remains in jars! Aren't ya some kind of Frankenstein? Huh?"

"Don't play it the brave, Judy!" His deep, hoarse voice was nothing, howsoever, a requiem for her, alluding her final moments of her life. "Because there were some brave women, who spat on my face that I'm a monster. But guess what happened to them."

"So ya fricking murdered them?"

"Some of them, yes, but the others no." The Italian compatriot's warm, wine-stained breath was tickling her facial, mossy skin like a summer breeze as the Bostonian snarled ferociously, incapable of bearing to look at him even for a split second.

"What about them? Did ya leave them alone?"

"Try again! I want yar rationality to spark before ya know what happens to ya like the rest of them." A wicked, mischievous titter danced on his tongue.

"I guess they escaped and ya didn't find them anymore!"

"That's correct! I knew it you're a smart lady, Judy!" Honored nodding motioned his head as his both hands squeezed her shoulders, earning her gaze in no time. "I knew it since the beginning you're unique and that's why I've exactly chosen you. Your intellect. Your class. Your beauty. You age finely like a wine as I can tell probably you used to be a bimbo but now look at ya, Judy!" Salty, crystal tears were welling into her brittle eyelids, pooling them with dew of moistness as they verged to gush down her cheeks. "No, no, no, don't cry! But now I can say you're just a fucking bombshell. Oh Gosh! I wonder how many men have been exploded by ya and they have tasted yar cupcake." In the meantime, he wiped with a thumb the tears that built in her eyelids as his fingers massaged gently, thus roughly her shoulders, admiring her petite, slender frame. "Nevertheless, that's another question! So my story is in that I used to be an outsider. Literally an outsider! The child, who nobody dares to be interacted by his peers. I was considered as some kind of a weirdo." Guttural, half-hearted chuckle surged out of his oral caverns. "I used to be married after I finished military school at age 18. I used to be a happy man with a brilliant woman and an adorable ray of sunshine into our hands. But guess what! 5 years of marriage, one day my ex-wife was in a maniacal depression after the loss of her mother and instead of supporting her, I slapped her for being a crybaby as I told her directly. Then she phoned the police and threatened me for divorcing me, due to the fact, I didn't support her when she was fighting with great depression over the loss of her mother. Moreover, she threatened me to take away our son Andy and not seeing him anymore as his father as I'm a completely stranger for both of them."

"Y-Yar insane! She deserved the support for mourning over her mother's death. That's what every loyal family member or a friend is supposed to do." The former woman of the cloth stuttered, struggling to spell the syllables due to the odium of his backstory as being a core of his character development, evaluating in the years. "The women aren't crybabies so as the men aren't too. Every person has got the right to cry sometimes not because they're weak. They just have been through too painful or abundance experience that changed downward their lives for a certain period of time."

"Ya don't utterly understand what I genuinely mean, Judy! That's not even the end of my song." The psychopath nagged at his guest, glaring at her, wrangling him and defending his ex-wife. "The women or any kind of a human being mustn't cry. It's a sign of their weakness but do ya know what else, Judy Martin? I liked it very much once I smacked a slap across her face. It didn't bring me the typical shame and guilty conscience, besides remorses. I felt like a new man or more powerful. She divorced me, of course! But after the divorce, something awfully good happened to her. Her skeleton is part of my Halloween decoration annually." In the last sentences of his monologue, sarcasm was vomited, in order to spook his recent prey.

Meanwhile, she felt a gloved hand poking her upper back behind her as she turned to the uninvited guest in the bedroom. The angel of death. Or rather, Shachath. The somber angel, dressed up in ebony, elegantly goth attires clothed her supernatural identity. Her bloody red lips were curled in the most affable, innocent smile which she has ever offered. Her sapphire blue irises were fixed on Judy, who was being visited by Shachath once at least.

"W-What are ya doing here?" The blonde enquired through tearful voice, sobbing as the dark angel's thumb wiped off the tumbling crystal, bitter tears as her other hand cupped her cheek. "I didn't even summon ya."

"You summoned me somehow, Jude! I'm not here to take your life, I promise." The velvety voice was rather beneficially, oddly alleviating the middle-aged mother. "I guess you know who Cayden is, right?"

"Yes, I do!" Humble, faint bobbing of her head affirmed her honesty what she knew exactly about the serial killer.

"The police are coming for him in a few minutes as there are 2 special people, who are going to rescue you. Whether kick him in the groins or on the contrary, use any object in self-defense. Do not lose faith in yourself to defeat the monster!"

Shortly after Shachath's advice, she spontaneously vanished in the thin air as Judy turned to the predator, who was about to tear off the rest of her attires to pieces until the police sirens swam outside's background, using her ultimate opportunity to kick him in the groins with her bare feet.

"Ooooh! That was unexpected. The ladies aren't even supposed to fight for," When the middle-aged gentleman was about to finish his utterance, stammering, he couldn't as the groans were antagonizing his unfinished sentence, while Judy got from the double bed, kicked Cayden in the spine to utterly pitch forward, abiding unconscious for a few minutes.

"The police are coming for ya, ya foul bastard! I hope ya rot in hell, sicko!" In the interim, the former member of the church walked away from the living room, speeding up as she was descending the stairs and gathering her stuff such as her purse, putting on the boots and the winter coat as she heard heavy footsteps stomping the threshold, keeping her relieved wits about the police. "Who's there?"

"It's FBI. We're looking for Cayden Gray. Are you Ms. Martin, right?" One of the cops enquired, rapping on the door, whilst Timothy and Madeleine got out from the former priest's cab, scurring up to the threshold, joining the horde of police officers.

"Yes, I'm! W-Why?" She unlocked the front door as she was met with the authorities shortly after buttoning her paletot, concealing the partly torn off dress, panting insecurely.

"2 people from your inner circle sent us urgently to inspect Mr. Gray's property, besides you have disappeared for hours as it was unusually a lot for them to handle their anxiety."

"Oh!" She cried out, scratching uneasily her head, stepping aside to allow the policemen to step inside the house and research for the notorious criminal.

"Jude! Judy!" The both younger adults stretched their arms in the air to scoop the elder blonde in a tight, warm hug, squealing ecstatically her name as they were glad to see her finally.

"Maddie! Timothy!" The middle-aged lady cried out loud, capturing both of them in an embrace, burying her tear-stained face in the crook of her former lover's neck, incapable of resisting the alluring, soothing scent that laced his neck, inhaling it inwardly. "Oh God! I've missed both of ya very much! I'm so sorry for everything." Shortly after they broke off the embrace, they took their time to admire one another's facial features, patting amiably, lightly their shoulders.

"Don't regret! Everything is alright now. The police have got the asshole, whilst you're still alive which is relieving me, Judy!" The Michiganian replied softly, unable to rest for a split second as she was in seventh heaven after beholding her mentor yet alive.

"Did he do anything atrocious to you?" The British aristocrat asked as he undid the coat's buttons until his eyes widened at the sight of partly ripped attire underneath the coat. "Oh sweet Jesus! He put efforts in humiliating you which is disgusting me to bones."

"Me either." Madeleine glimpsed at Timothy as her their complexions blanched.

"I know. He did! He told me his abominable story about his childhood and that he used to be a married man with a wife and a son until he smacked a slap across his wife's face one day on the 5th year of their marriage, in fact, she was grieving over her mother's death and Cayden didn't support her. Furthermore, he even liked it and shortly after the divorce, his ex-wife's skeleton is being used for Halloween decoration." At the moment, they were ambling up to the vehicle back, in order to get back at home at last.

"Son of the bitches, I will find a way to get away with the murders I committed! And fuck you, Judy! Fuck you for spitting on me like garbage when I opened in front of ya and I told ya my story." In the meanwhile, the serial killer was under arrest as 2 police officers were escorting him up to the police car with the briskly shrilling sirens as his hands were handcuffed, jerking.

"Ignore him!" Madeleine muttered as she was seating alongside the former Monsignor, whereas Judy laid down on her back on the passenger backseat, relaxing from everything that took its place tonight. "The law is going to teach him a damn lesson after those vicious homicides, besides the experimental baloney he used to do."

\- _An Hour Later _-

As soon as the former godly members of the church got back at home lastly, Judy took a lukewarm, fresh shower and hopped up in the nightgown which she received on Christmas from her former lover. Meantime, Timothy stayed awake to make tea and cucumber with tuna and carrots sandwich for his rara avis to relax.

When the blonde crawled in the king-sized bed, she turned to the window's side, contemplating it glassily with her fatigued caramel brown eyes as the lamps on the night stands were lit up, partly gleaming the partly pitch-ebon room.

Further, the former sister of the church told to her friends every petty detail behind the happened and the eventual kidnap. The newspaper articles and the note of Nora, Cayden's former prey who's already deceased.

Once the notoriously squeaky door opened, the former holy man arrived with a platter of sandwich and mug of hot black tea, setting it on the night stand on Jude's side, earning her attention promptly.

"What a surprise!"

"Not exactly! I bet you're dehydrated and hungry." The younger man offered her a sympathetic, platonically loving smile, kissing his lips as she sat on the bed, sipping her black tea and then masticating a few bites from the sandwich.

"So as yar instincts are exquisitely special to convince ya. Yar deadly concerned about me! Thank ya for the rescue and the sandwich and the tea!"

"Anything for you, rare bird!"

A quarter a minute after munching her third bite of the sandwich, the middle-aged woman took regretfully a deep breath, lowering her stare for a split second until she met her former lover's one.

"I'd like to apologize for being a stubborn whore. I was just naïve and I wanted a fresh beginning of my life but it looks like Cayden wasn't the exact man for me."

"Judy, don't ever call yourself a whore! You aren't a whore! You were just naïve and vulnerable. I was completely comprehending the beginning of this fresh life after Briarcliff and what you have been through before, but I'm glad," Meanwhile, Timothy sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, cupping the Bostonian's cheeks in the palms of his warm, creamy as baby skin hands, reassuring her as she melted, catching her off guard momentarily. "I'm glad you're still alive and you make it up to now without whining and giving up as it wasn't worth at all. I'd deeply regret so as Maddie would too if that bastard, who doesn't even deserves his name to be mentioned to cook you and being part of his meal."

A half a minute silence arched between the both adults as the older lady molted at the sudden kiss on her cheek as Timothy's berry-coloured, luscious lips greased her cheek's milky as snow facial skin.

"I hate to be pitied as usually but this situation and the psycho shit was extreme. Ya and Maddie were certainly right. He was suspicious and tremendously dangerous man. Probably I understood ya why ya were so jealous of me."

"Because I'm scared to death to lose you and seeing you hurt again." After she finished with drinking her tea, her head collapsed back on the pillow, allowing her body muscles to ultimately relax. "It will cost me bunch of antidepressants for you and Edward! You're the most important people to me in this world. Screw the rest of the world!"

A kindhearted, serene smile flashed upon her porcelain, pale as ghost complexion.

"Are you scared? Do you fear of sleeping on your own?"

"Mhm." Whisper escaped her lips as she wedged her lips in a purse as he stroke delicately her ruffled, wild halo ringlet of aureate, silky tresses, piled up on the pillow. Another kiss was planted on her temple.

"Don't worry! I'll be there in a jiff."

A couple of minutes later after Timothy gathered the platter along with the already emptied mug, he washed the mug and brushed his teeth, subsequently towering the stairway to the second floor, crawling in the at last as he snuggled with the middle-aged mother, dangling his strong, muscular, secure arms around her shoulders once the lamps on the night stands were turned off.

Eventually that's going to be among the nights which Judy is never going to forget or neglect as a roller coaster of painful experience and peace she has accomplished. From the attempted rape and kidnap up to cuddling with her love interest was contrasting her expectancies. From tonight, she has changed drastically her opinion on the man, she has always hankered to be always next to her and he formerly wore the title of the frenemy or rather the foe, himself. Additionally, her feelings for him were inebriating her and casting a spell on her even him.

Bonus: Since Judy is already rescued from Cayden, do you think there's a possibility Judy and Timothy to reunite as not just a platonic bond, however, as a romantic couple? Do you think she started to being less hostile towards Timothy without any intensifying feelings or on the contrary, having deeper, more complex feelings?


	11. I Promise I'll Never Leave You

\- _A Few Hours Later_ -

A few hours after the both former pious members of the church crawled in the king-sized bed, something urged the former nun to get a glass of water in the kitchen though she felt dead weight of pair of muscly arms snaked around her upper back, snuggling together under the warm, conveniently soft quilt.

Once Jude came to her senses in the wee hours of the morning as she scanned promptly the clock on her nightstand in a mere eyeing, it exactly read 4 o'clock in the morning with mildly glowing white digitals. She shook momentarily her head like a dog after having a fresh bath in the mist, salty sea, aiding her vision to ebb out its blurriness that fogged her drowsy eyelids in the pitch-black room. Pitch black room being guarded by its natural shadows of the darkness, hedging each corner of their bedroom they shared.

When she wriggled off her petite frame, escaping the potent, warmhearted cuddle she shared with her former lover, subsequently the blonde seated on the edge of the bed to hop up in comfy, fuzzy slippers and tiptoeing like burglar up to the door, leading to the hallway. In the middle of her silent destination to the door, a grunt curled Timothy's lips, catching her off guard as his mouth produced muffled, reluctant smacking. At first, the Bostonian thought the younger man woke up as her mouth was slightly agape, contracting her jaw.

"Phew! That was so close!" The former pious woman of the cloth wiped with the palm of her petite, creamy as satin hand her temple, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom plumpish lip. Her hazelish-brown orbs, fueled with indescribable fatigue and consternation, pigmenting in palish tinges her irises, exposing the genuine pigments that predominated in them. Her flimsy heart was about to spring up from her curtailed like a toy-out-of-the-box. "Even if he was awake, it wouldn't hurt a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water at all." Inner voice produced Symphony into her head as a sigh of relief has heaved from the top of her fragile lungs as its oxygen surged her breathing organs. Relief enveloped her still hammering heart churned out even more frequently as it heart beats pulsated briskly into her ears. Into the void. Into the vacuum. Into the darkness that embraced her into his invisibly murky arms, shadowing partly her petite frame which was nothing, compared to the darkness's humongous dimension.

As soon as her elvish, flabbily twitching hand met the doorknob, consequently she opened warily the notoriously creaky door gradually, glimpsing per a couple of seconds with every part of opening the door at her love interest, inhaling inwardly, unnerved. Thereafter the middle-aged mother left the bedroom which she shared it with the former aspiring Monsignor beyond relieved, due to the fact he wasn't distracted by her temporal absence as she yearned just to have a glass of water from the kitchen. What it relieved her more was their little sweet ray of sunshine still kipping peacefully, nestled in the soft, convenient bed sheets of her crib. No baby cries. No baby whines. No baby squeals were forming a high-pitched symphony in the two-story house and causing any pother which is mildly irritating and rendering his parents huffing, incapable of collecting the necessary hours of good night sleep.

When Judy descended the lacquered stairway to the first floor, then she headed to the kitchen and gathered an empty, clean glass from the upper kitchen cabinet, thus filling it with a pool of fresh, lukewarm water as her caramel brown irises were darted to the snowy landscape that was part of her mansion's exterior.

After sipping a couple of wee sips from the glass of water, resurrecting her dry throat and dehydretated body, lowering her stare to her bare feet which they were feeted in the fuzzy, comfy slippers. Her train of thoughts railed through her mind like incessantly buzzing train even when it was only 4 o'clock in the morning.

Once she was about to gulp a handful of bigger sips from the glass of water, tilting her head to meet the snowy, yet somber outdoor sight as her naturally rosy-coloured, luscious lips greased the frangible glass, hardly her anterior ivory, firm yet for her age teeth brushed the glass material, suddenly she caught a glimpse of a delusive masculine, burly figure wandering around the mansion's yard, his shoes stumping the snow as if they were stomping a bothersome fly, flying for hours and buzzing frequently.

It was Cayden's silhouette roaming like spectral, ducked his head as his top hat was capping his grizzly-brownish hair.

The former sister of the church was beyond baffled how her kidnapper and former love interest was doing in the wee hours of the morning. Little did she know how he was able to violate her personal space by stepping in a foreign property which isn't his.

"But he is supposed to be arrested by the cops." Mumble echoed by vibrating her oral caverns in the almost jet black kitchen as the dim nocturnal light dispersed through the window's glasses. She choked with some water, replenishing her inflated throat with liquid. "What for heaven sake he's doing in the yard? Is this some kind of a dream or nemesis for my escape?"

All of a sudden, the Italian emigrant's translucent ghost charged up to the window glass, grimacing his mildly wrinkled, maize-stained face due to the cigarette he has took a drag at them for 2 decades. Ferocious, unspeakable snarl was tattooed on his complexion, gritting his yellow teeth, transfixing his glaring chocolate brown eyes to the older woman, walloping with a balled fist on the flimsy window glass repeatedly, earning her attention as she didn't peel a single word, fortunately.

"What a bitch! Ya escaped from the attic and you didn't even bother to walk away from my house with yar poof friend and that dumb blond escorting ya to yar poof friend's car?" The middle-aged man bawled at her aggressively, foolhardily lingered on his tongue, whilst a grotesque, disquiet frown curled upon the former nun's damp, perfectly shaped pair of rosy-coloured oral flower petals after swallowing with trouble the liquid of water, troubling her throat. "Huh? Judy Martin, I thought ya were a special or rather one of a kind woman, one in a million ladies who is humble and pretty attractive with ravishing charisma but you know what? It doesn't matter anymore!" In the meantime, Jude swallowed a solid lump, formed in her throat, unable to rest for a single second due to the perturbing intruder as she snatched swiftly a mere kitchen knife from the wooden, oak rack turret as a butchering knife was grasped in her solely free trembling hand, whereas the other one manipulated up to her lips, greasing the glass with her supporting lips until the liquid gushed down on its own way from her tongue like waterfall. "You're like the other women. The same old whore. I can see why ya aren't attracted to that man, who is in the bedroom which you share together."

"B-But we aren't lovers!" Velvety, grunting whisper left her lips after leaving her already emptied glass on the countertop. Her heart raced when the Italian compatriot speculated that she and the younger man were lovers, in fact, they were sharing the same bed and the same room. It was just matter of manners. "There's a difference between a lover and a friend who shares the same bed with ya." The middle-aged lady justified, stuttering as her lip curled when Cayden headed towards the former Monsignor's vehicle to damage it with his own clutched hands into balled fists and violent kicks, leaving scrapped traces of his violent act. "No, no! Not his car!" Suddenly she scurried from the kitchen to the front door, unlocking it in a single click as punches and kicks caused the car to tootle, gritting her teeth as Judy lowered the knife, in order to be unseen for the intruder. "No!"

As soon as the Bostonian arrived outside, the psychopath wasn't visible as he resembled a delusional spectral, swanning around the mansion's lonely yard. Meanwhile, Jude sped up to the cab to check it for any cracks or tiny damages, imprinted on any side of the vehicle even tracing it with her only free hand's frail, pale as ghost fingers, surveying it additionally.

"Cayden? Ya son of the bitch, I knew it ya weren't real!" The former devotional woman of the cloth was inspecting gingerly the car, scarcely noticing any damage. "That's part of my nightmare, I bet!" She said in scoffing manner, emitting hoarse, guttural chuckle as it tickled the corners of her mouth. "Or a nemesis for escaping the bastard's lair!" It took her a couple of minutes to survey the vehicle for eventual damages even noting nothing which relieved her to bones, taking a jaded deep breath after everything took its place in a handful of minutes. After Cayden's ghost or illusive presence! After the illusive vehicle damage. Cayden's phantom lies, aiming at her like arrows to throb her muscles and flesh. After the loneliness trapped her in delusive trap with Cayden, exaggerated and further sounds, swimming in the background. Literally everything associated with the serial killer and the curses which were hexed on her.

Instead of going to the bed, the former sister of the Roman Catholic church promised herself to being widely awake shortly after 4 o'clock in the morning by entering inside the two-story house, shutting and locking the door, then brew a black coffee for herself and afterwards to sit on one of the armchairs in the living room after collecting her photo album with old, vintage photos of herself back in her childhood, youth and young adulthood years. At the moment, the lights were turned on, allowing its artificial light to dim the room as her caramel brown eyes were pierced at her baby photos especially when she was a half a year old infant, being scooped in her mother's secure, loving arms. Meantime, her slim, adroit finger tipped on her mother's radiant, shining face as she was no longer alive, as a result of a breast cancer when Judy was only 18 years old young adult.

Melodious humming was shaking her lips like an earthquake, finding comfort in contemplating the sole photos she has ever had as they were 15 only in quantity. A slight, rueful smile kissed her lips once she flipped a page forward and her eyes were laid on an old, black and white photograph of her with her former fiancé, Casey. They were actually with a few years age gap which wasn't problematic at all. In their relationship, Casey was actually with a few years her senior and it was actually a handful of decades ago when they have lastly dated and encountered one another.

The former couple has posed in front of a grandiose tree in one of the most peaceful Boston parks, clasping their arms around their shoulders as beaming, beatific smiles were flashed upon their youthful, parchment faces. Their gleaming eyes followed the camera's direction without averting their gazes.

All of a sudden, the blonde could hear sufficiently audible footsteps, emanating from the corridor as she thought it was her former lover's ones, pondering deep in her whirlpool of thoughts is it him and she was readily sure it was him.

Little did the middle-aged mother know what the former ambitious holy man was doing in the early morning just shortly after she was the first one to be wakeful.

"T-Timoth-" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer stammered begrudgingly, peeping over the spread pages of her photo album as she didn't catch the glimpse of any being in the hall as apprehension enveloped her heart.

"Is everything alright?" All of a sudden, the younger man emerged in front of the older lady, peeping at the photo album, noticing one of her vintage photos how Judy poses with another man back in her young adulthood. His velvety, British accent caught her off guard as she frantically turned to him, meeting his gape, locking up his chocolate brown orbs.

"Oh for heaven sake, ya scared me, Tim! I didn't expect ya so far in the wee hours of the morning."

"I was awfully worried when I woke up in an empty bed and I presupposed you were having nightmares with...you know who!" The British compatriot showed his great concern about his once favorite nun as his lips curled in choir. "I didn't mean to scare you, Jude! I didn't mean sincerely to do it but I couldn't help but notice you're still struggling to fall asleep."

"It's fine. I just need some time to refresh myself." In the meantime, the former sister of the church sipped a handful of gulps of the morning coffee, consequently leaving it aloof on the coffee table. Timothy seated on the couch as their proximity was a couple of inches only. In the corner of his eye he could see a photograph of twenty-one-year-old Judy posing to slightly older man, who was presumably her ex-boyfriend or husband. Those were the initial thoughts which crossed the former holy man's mind. "I just have these periods of time when I struggle to fall asleep. It's just perfectly...normal!" Stammer was vomited in the sequel of her monologue, justifying herself about the insomnia that was guzzling her identity, meeting his drowsy, soothing chocolate brown orbs as if it was a sanctuary, guarding her against demons, shadows and negativism. She found easily comfort in Timothy's presence and his fetching facial features, contouring his yet youthful, milky as snow face.

"Jude, you should rest! The morning is approaching and you should go back to work. How you will be able to work, when you're still as sleepy as a mindless zombie?" The former member of the clergy cautioned as sternness was lacing his questions and advice without averting his gaze from her. Deep concern was enveloping his heart, incapable of resting for a single second at the thought of picturing his rare bird being awake in the wee hours of the morning with a photo album perching on her skinny thighs as they were tattooed in natural stretch marks due to afterbirth. Mug of hot coffee sitting motionlessly on the coffee table as its exotic aroma swirled in the background. And then picturing her at work being restlessly somnolent, babbling with customers and Madeleine, struggling to utter the syllables utterly clearly was another reason for his worry to be as murdering as a mass massacre. "I fear Maddie won't look at you in the same way as when you're energetic after collecting enough sleep."

"She will be alright with that since thanks to her and ya, I'm still alive and ya were the last hopes to drive me out of the hellhole, where I was sedated and then locked up in the attic like a half dead so that the police to not find out about it."

"I know! But Maddie is very emphatic, commiserative and loving friend. I owe her a credit for escorting me to this half dilapidating property and before that going to the police station to give us information about this shithead's address and send the police to his property." What it struck the blonde was that her former lover didn't mention the name of the serial killer, who was not only playing with her feelings and manipulating her to bones, moreover throwing her in the attic especially in a cage and attempting to rape her without her consent.

"It's the thing that I owe you a big fat credit for saving my life from this bastard and early warnings to me to be careful with that man, in fact, he might be suspicious." The middle-aged mother mimicked after expressing her gratitude for everything, ducking her head remorsefully, due to the fact she was ginormously stubborn to evade her former lover and protégé's cautions about the Italian compatriot, who was currently in the police station under arrest. "I was naïve. I was stupid. My hopes were broken. Even my heart is broken. I realize now what're the true colors of his character." She abstained from weeping and allowing the entire stormy emotions to pour into her monologues and affect her demeanor right away. Meantime, the former woman of the cloth wedged her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips in a vitriolic contrite, perfectly defining her facial features.

"It's okay to make mistakes. I told you how much I despise when I see you hurt, Judy! Even God saw all this and he thinks Cayden deserves the worst punishment ever for hurting such an incredibly innocent, caring, kindhearted and amazing woman as you're." In the interim, the Bostonian lowered her head, meeting the beatific stare of Casey, aimed to the camera on the Polaroid, vintage photo at the thought of the last words he addressed her when she told him that she was being infected with syphilis.

_"You're a fucking liar, Judy! And an obnoxiously dumbfounding whore with yar nasty lies."_ The inner voice of her former fiancé just whirled in her whirlpool of thoughts, incapable of focusing on her love interest's words as he was beyond optimistically honest with her without showing any signs of contempt. Suddenly, her eyelids fluttered shut at the thought of the tinting explicit, graphic flashback how her first ever love of her life broke her heart with infecting her with syphilis and unable to being fertile anymore, besides his vain infidelity. A symphony of ferment echoed in her head like lair, still recalling the painful adjectives Casey addressed her. Adjectives, which were disregarding her true colors. Adjectives, overlooking her uniqueness.

"Judy, you aren't listening to me!" The former holy man attempted to earn his former employee's prompt attention as the voice's sharpness was emphasized in his caution shortly after addressing her with her real name. "Did you even hear what I said about you?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah! I did! I just," In the meanwhile, the middle-aged lady stammered, gulping a lump, formed in her throat after being snapped out of her reverie, where she dwelled in the mist, abysmal seas of her past. "Nevermind! I did some mistakes in my past for which I deeply regret but before that they have a story."

"I'd like to hear everything about you." Timothy insisted in mumbling as he got from the couch, thus approaching his love interest by planting an affectionate, reassuring kiss on her temple as his berry-coloured, soft as satin lips contacted the silken, delicate skin of her temple. "I'd like to know what you used to be in the past. Woman in the armor of mistakes which you have done."

"Would ya rather prefer listening to an old hag talking about her past or make yar tea or coffee?" What the former devotional holy man noticed in her rhetorical inquiry was the antagonistic sarcasm, accentuating the choices as she couldn't suppress a husky chuckle, vibrating her throat. The immense interest that was aroused in the former member of the church deeply touched the former licentious jazz nightclub singer. "Or would ya rather prefer watching photo album photos of mine from my childhood up to who knows when?" The blonde kept on with her rhetorical inquiry, sipping of the gradually cooling caffeine beverage.

"I'd like the first and last one. I can make a coffee or a tea by myself, Jude!" A serene, promising smile was sketched upon his facial features. "I promise you I'd love to listen every fragment of your past, no matter how ashamed and disgusted you're. Because I know so far God gave you a second chance by offering you a position which you really liked and somewhere to be happy. At least, with me and you know who else!" Meantime, a sharp exhale surged her lungs when she left aloof the photo album on the coffee table, chewing her upper lip coyly. "There's always a story why you've chosen God and to be part of his holy army."

"I've always struggled to find a path to the light especially when I needed it the most, it was one of the crucial reasons why I used to be a member of the church." The middle-aged mother walked away from the living room by heading to the kitchen, whereas the former priest followed her without giving up, in fact, they were conversating one another. "Ya don't want even to know what I used to be in the past. Ya don't want to know the abomination what incarnated a selfish, reigned by her impulse former alcoholic, who used to be a part of the high class prostitution." Once they stepped inside the kitchen, Jude placed the kettle with water after filling it with water, hence, putting it on the cooker to boil the liquid until bubbles sail on the surface and then spoon coffee beans in the kettle.

"Oh my God! It's so heartbreaking." Even if he was a man with his own needs, emotions and feelings, he could find his brittle eyelids being engulfed with dew of salty moistness, verging to spring up into his chocolate brown orbs as they lost it's the warmest chocolate tinge due to sorrow and pitying his rara avis, due to her melancholic, gloomy past's story. Further, his heart was aching to hear detailed her back story which was bringing him tears and Timothy couldn't put a finger on it. "You seem tremendously ashamed to talk about it."

"I do!" The blonde couldn't deny every time she thought any wee percentage of her past, consequently it highly affected her behavior and mood as if it was the qualm the domineering feeling Judy could sense gnawing her slowly even dooming her.

"We're all sinners. Every one of us, Jude!"

"It's true but once ya hear my story, ya can freely kick me out of yar house for being fully aware what do ya keep at this house." It wasn't the sole person in the same room who wanted to bawl his eyes off of a good cry. It was Judy, herself. Protagonist in her former life as the alcohol and one-night stands were antagonizing her, muting the pain of the heartbreak, infidelity and infertility. Suddenly crystal, bitter tears tumbled down on her cheeks as they welled into her honey brown irises like fountain, swallowing hard. "I'll be fine all alone and everything will be good for you and Edward. He doesn't need a mother drunken whore."

"W-Why I should do this? It's okay to make mistakes. I doubt it you're a dreadful person and a drunken whore how you portray yourself." Even when the British compatriot couldn't oppress the rolling tears on his cheeks, sniffling inwardly to himself by wiping with stray, pristinely long fingers wiped the tears that baptized his parchment, yet young-looking complexion. "Of course, I and Edward need you in this home, regardless what your inner voices are saying to you otherwise! He needs a mother and a father to nurture, love and take care of him and grow up as a normal child with spectacular parents." Shortly after the water's temperature significantly increased, consequently she found a silver spoon, spooning hive of coffee beans, sufficiently fitting in the scoop by putting them inside the kettle along with the liquid pool. "And do you know what else? I'll never allow you to be homeless and wander around as if that's a zombie apocalypse, Judy! Trust me, you're loved and safe and sound at home!"

"And do ya know what else too, Timothy? Ya should have left me to die in Briarcliff earlier and take away Edward instead of bringing me at home." All of a sudden, the former member of the clergy nibbled on the silky skin of her bottom damp, coffee-stained lip, turning to Timothy after pouring sweltering coffee in the empty mug which she has gathered shortly after researching for it on the high kitchen cabinet. "I'm thankful for everything but I think ya deserve something better. Better, younger and more beautiful woman than an old, aged one, who ya deserve at any cost!" Meanwhile, the blonde walked away from the kitchen by strolling up to the living room to gather her unfinished mug of coffee and sit on the porch until she saw a similar figure rambling around the grandiose yard as it was Madeleine, herself.

Without replying, Timothy preferred to give her some time and personal space to reflect, instead of violating it brashly until she noted the both ladies encountering in the yard as the Michiganian seated alongside her friend, dangling her satin arms around her, absorbing mutual warmness. A wry smile through tears was adumbrated across his lips, whilst sipping warily his morning coffee, without averting his gaze from Jude and Madeleine.

"What are ya doing here, Maddie? Aren't ya supposed to be at home with yar brother and see each other at work?"

"I couldn't sleep. Oh my goodness! This thing with your kidnap and rescuing you, while the police were at his property...Oh my God!"

"It kept ya awake all this shit?" In the interim, the former holy woman, rested her head on her protégé's shoulder, relishing and molting in the warm, tight embrace that braced them.

"Yeah! You don't have any idea how it drained my sleepiness, honey!" Thereafter the younger blonde turned to meet her mentor's tear-stained face as humongous concern highlighted her naturally youthful, nubile facial features. "Why your face is so wet? What did you cry for, Judy?"

"I tried but I failed. Timothy should do the right thing." It bewildered even more the Michiganian, herself as she peppered her mentor's plump cheeks with doting, sweet kisses.

"You're confusing me. I bet you regret for being with that arsehole, who tried to kill you in his home the last night and I and Tim did everything to keep you safe and sound with our advices."

"Not only this," In the meanwhile, the former Monsignor sped up in light footsteps up to the living room, snatching gingerly, innocently his former lover's photo album by coming back to the kitchen without missing anything from the both women's conversation. "I tried my best to tell Timothy but he refuses to listen to me."

"What is it?"

"To kick me out of home once he acknowledges what he keeps at this house without even being aware. Without being aware who the hell has given a birth to Edward. Without being aware who the fuck tried to break his heart by dating a serial killer and who perhaps was about to kill me but before that being raped."

"What the heck are you even talking about, Judy? He would deeply regret once he kicks you out of this house. He's too good person to do this shit to you."

"He is too good man to have a whore, who has his baby at his fucking house." Meantime, the British aristocrat scrolled through the photo album of the elder blonde, lowering his chocolate brown pools to a photograph of Judy in the beginning of her 20s with Casey. The same photo where she closed the photo album's cover lastly after walking away from the living room. "He is living in a fucking lie." Timothy sobbed inwardly, ruefully to himself when he heard his rare bird addressing herself radically coarsely, pouring her entire somber emotions in a whole monologue.

"Aww, Judy, Judy! He isn't living in any goddamn lie, first and foremost! Second, the mother of the lovely Edward and his father aren't living with a whore or a town pump, whatever you call it. Edward has a loving, caring and marvelous mother, whilst Timothy has unique, gorgeous and intelligent woman he has always longed for. I'm completely sure!" At the moment, the former woman of the cloth buried her face in the crook of the young lady's neck, allowing the jet of tears to gush down freely, sniffling quietly as her both hands were clawing her shoulders, squeezing them affectionately. "Whatever you used to be in the past and you tell it right away to Timothy, he will love you even more. Believe me, he will do it! You're his angel."

"Alright, alright! So if he wants to kick me out of here, he can do it as he hears me right away whether if he does it even. When I was 17 and I was about to graduate high school, I was being bullied by horde of boys for being lonely girl and distancing myself from bad boys until it was Casey, who confronted them. Yeah, he introduced himself to me and he invited me on the prom even if I was struggling financially. I told him I can't, because at home we're struggling financially and he was alright with that by celebrating it by ourselves, having a moonlight picnic, watching the shimmering stars, eating chocolate and strawberries, whilst screw our classmates. Screw them for wearing extravagantly glimmering outfits, boozing and doping themselves with shit!" Ironic giggles escaped the both women lips as they broke off the embrace. "We've been dating for years and he suddenly proposed me just months before something changed downward everything. Our relationship. My life and everything. My mother has already passed away, due to a breast cancer. I didn't have my own family and that's what I've always longed for."

"Then what is the problem? Why do ya prefer to be kicked out of this house when Tim hears yar story?"

"The problem is one day I experienced a miscarriage of mine baby and I put the blame on Casey for infecting me with syphilis, unable to bare his baby which I wanted more than anything. When I told him right away, instead of supporting me when I forgave him, he smacked a slap across my face bloodily and called me a liar and a whore, then this pig dumped me and that's when I became a whore, singing in the local clubs to numb my pain with being inebriated and getting laid with men. One day, I woke up in my own vomit and when a soldier rejected to take me home, I was heartbroken and on my way to home when I lost control over my cab, therefore I hit the little girl with the blue coat."

"I'm very sorry to hear all that what you have been through, Judy! I know that you released ounce off yar shoulders after sharing your story with me. Why didn't you do the same with Timothy?" Madeleine posed the question emphatically, rubbing her mentor's back, in order to comfort her not with honeyed words, but also with her embraces, platonic love and presence.

"He will be greatly disappointed after hearing all this, trust me!"

"What is this congenital fear of rejection in you, Jude? It's not fine if you want to take the further step, in order to repair yar toxic relationship with Tim." Madeleine clarified, inhaling the alluring natural scent of the winter in the wee hours of the looming on the horizon morning. "Is that what ya want actually?"

"I want it more than in the world, besides achieving a family harmony but I know finally Timothy's worth." In the interval, the former sister of the church's sniffle subdued in the background, hence, wiping with a thumb the last drying tears, dripping translucently from her eyelids after fluttering in frequent blink. "He is a fascinating, selfless, loving, caring man who did everything for me after we left the nuthouse for better."

"Oh fucking God! If this faggot and the young dumb blond didn't acknowledge this bitch's absence, I wouldn't be here now." Cayden clutched in a balled fist his colossal, callous hand, subsequently slamming the brick wall of the poorly adorned prison cell of his shortly after the arrest and taking a couple of mug shots along with the interrogation.

It has been a handful of hours since the serial killer's successful arrest after failed attempts to being found by the authorities at last. After the interrogation by the police officers, he hasn't fed, nor drunk anything to hydrate his body.

In the wee hours of the Vermont morning the majority of the prisoners were napping, whereas the Italian compatriot was awake without closing his eyes for a single second to rest due to the insomnia that was consuming him. He was seating on his tattered, filthy bed with its partly torn bed sheets and quilt that was the sole blanket which shielded the inmates' bodies in the coldest nights in jail.

"Hey, hey!" One of the prisoners opted to earn the psychopath's attention as it was a middle-aged lady with Norwegian roots, shaking the jail bars as Cayden's restless chocolate brown irises were squinted up at her scabby, yellow due to the cigarettes for not quiting them as they were her second nature since her late teens. "Be quiet, dude! You will wake them."

"Oh! Who is advising me when it's the toughest period of time for me? I can't chill for a single minute as you can see, ma'am." A hoarse, abashed snicker tickled the corners of his mouth. "I bet yar like me now or worse."

"It depends how you might judge me. I'm responsible for prostitution and doping myself with illegal drugs, ya know." The middle-aged lady, who was conversating with the serial killer, she possessed bob aureate haircut as its tresses tickled her collarbone and neck as its full forehead fringe concealed the yellow skin of her temple and her tiny, significant black rose tattoo, inked on it. Her piercing, the darkest midnight black orbs were as diabolic as her jones. Her height was as tall as an average woman approximately 5'5 with lean, slender body build and wearing bloody red garments as usually. "I know yar a lady killer." Sarcasm was vomited in her utterance as he scratched with his fingernails the scalp of his grizzly-chestnut hair, couldn't help but snigger at her sarcasm.

"Lady killer in collecting something special as fragments about them."

"Don't tell me I'm going to be the next victim or rather on the very top of yar list, dude! Should I know the lady killer's name before being dead?"

"I'm Cayden Gray. I won't kill ya, ma'am. I promise!" A cocky, mischievous grin was cradling his dry lips, winking gamely at her when he limped up to the cell bars, grasping them as a beast, jailed in a cage. "And yar name?"

"My name is Andrea Drake. Cayden sounds an intriguing name. How comes an Italian being named Cayden?" The Norwegian compatriot commented with inquiry, chewing her lip reluctantly.

"I'm actually not a native Italian but my parents emigrated from Italy as I'm half an American and Italian. See?" He spread his hands in defeatist manner as the both prisoners couldn't repress jubilant giggles as Andrea's cheeks were sanguinely tinted due to the psychopath's sense of humor that got her in the jazz exceedingly quickly. "Are you actually a Scandinavian?"

"I've Norwegian roots as my mom is a Norwegian emigrant and I was raised in her household, whilst my father left us when I was a six-year-old child. Surviving all alone and they divorced before that!" The hooker evoked out slyly as her exclaimation lisped, curling her lips altogether in a choir. "I'm an only child in my fricking family. I was close with my cousins, William and Marion. They're wonderful people unlike the trashy me. What an irony of the fate when the life changes on 360 degrees downward after being a child then an adolescent and yeah!"

"You aren't trashy, Andrea! Believe me, I can tell ya have been through a lot of pressure and that's why ya became a prostitute and doping yourself." The Italian compatriot muttered as he furrowed his thick eyebrows when the blonde addressed herself crudely.

"That's damn true, Cayden! I bet ya have been through a lot either, in fact, ya became such a psycho to kill women and do whatever ya want with their corpses, organs and gore." Andrea replied, slapping her bare thigh in scoffing manner.

"I do! Every one of us has their own story why they became monsters. All monsters are human."

\- _An Hour Later_ -

An hour after Madeleine and Jude were seating on the porch, discussing rational and diversity of topics as it was the juvenile blond who was alleviating her mentor, thereafter the former nun encouraged by her own protégé entered inside the two-story house back with a slight, rueful smile, dancing across her naturally rosy-coloured, coffee-stained lips after finding comfort.

When she paced up to the kitchen, she found her love interest scrolling through her photo album as it was opened on the last page with the recent photographs such as how the middle-aged lady was back in her 20s, posing with a hive of nuns, numbering Mother Claudia, her former mentor and the last picture was of Jude and Timothy after finishing a successful mission and delivering a speech. Their beaming, breathtaking smiles were as hypnotizing as the most vivid hue, enforcing his chocolate brown eyes to be transfixed on the photograph and thinking of the old good times when they weren't hostile towards one another.

"Whatcha looking at, Tim?" The former holy woman stood alongside her former lover, peeping at her remarkable paraphernalia, where she collected memorable photos of her. Briefly, emphasizing certain prominent events which took its place in her life.

"Urm, your photo album if you don't mind at all." Meanwhile, the younger man riposted sheepishly as his glance at his right hand transformed in a stare, sensing remorses brewing and cooking inside him, due to the fact without Judy's consent he was prying in her personal items especially her photo album which she left it accidentally on the coffee table. "And I didn't mean to be prying or something, however, I listened to your conversation with Maddie."

"So as I'm ready to be kicked out of yar home." The blonde exclaimed, heaving a jaded exhale from the top of her brittle lungs.

"That's pretty rude and selfish if I did it, Jude! I'd never do it."

"What?"

"I'm asking you why you weren't brave enough to tell me everything what you used to be in details just like how you told Maddie?"

"Because I was fearing of being rejected by you." In the interim, he closed the photo album cover by swatting it, thereafter cupping her well-defined cheeks in the palms of his creamy as velvet, warm hands to reassure her as she melted, meeting his gaze without ebbing the smile that was swinging across her lips.

"Do not be afraid of me! Never and ever, because I'd never leave you. I will never fear of hearing the ugliest truths about you, because I care about you and you did everything for me and vice versa. I returned what I owed to you by getting you out of here with Edward, helped you to give a birth before that, gave you a home, investing together money in the once abandoned cabin in the middle of the streets so that to have your own business with Madeleine."

"I'm grateful for all this. I thought ya deserved somebody better to make you blissful but I think," The former member of the church stuttered, struggling to peel the words as the thumbs of his hands traced gently her well-shaped cheekbones.

"I think I'd be wrong if I have chosen somebody else over you, Jude! I don't care if you aren't virgin anymore before me or what you used to be before, however, your shining smile on your face, Edward and your felicity is my care." Their hearts vigorously throbbed into their ribs cage especially the middle-aged mother's one as the genial, velvety words were jingling hallowed anthems into her petite, sensitive ears.

"Timothy?"

"Huh? Yes, rare bird?" His hands were delicately caressing the gilt, glossy tresses, combing and twirling through them as he relished the crispy softness of her still fabulous lion mane of aureate old Hollywood curls, pilling up on her shoulders. His lips were scarcely brushing her temple.

"I know how much did I break yar heart with all this that happened not only the last night, but also earlier this morning but you promise to never leave me even if I used to be a drunken whore as I believed in the stark lie of being infected with illness that took away my fertility. The drunken whore, who used to have one-night stands and boozing to numb the pain?"

"I strongly promise. I promise I'll never leave you and Edward. I don't care what you were then. I'm very very thankful, guess for what!"

"For what?" The older woman asked in muffled whisper, without averting her gape from his hexing one as a blossoming radiant, doting smile was kissing his baby pinkish lips.

"For being part of my life, for gracing me with our angel and being my ray of sunshine with Edward. I can't live without you!" All of a sudden, the Bostonian's smile was flourishing gradually, altering its genuine nuances as they were more vibrant and embodying its genuinely felicity.

"I can't live without ya, Tim! It would be an enormous mistake of mine if I was homeless now and left earlier, due to my impulse and depression."

"I don't regret for bring you at home with Edward. Safe and sound! Happy and radiant too!" The former aspiring Monsignor's lip curled as the middle-aged mother licked hers by ducking her head for a split second.

Author's Note: The introduction of Andrea Drake's character commenced to arouse my interest not only in her grim character, moreover in her alleged melanholic backstory. A brief reminder, I'm starting to like her and perhaps she might become one of my favorite female characters, nevertheless, it depends of the story wherever it might lead her character development as well. Do you think there's a possibility Andrea being as sinisterly eerie villain as Cayden or not exactly? Comment below your thoughts, besides I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter!

Alex xoxo ❤✝


	12. Deservedly

\- _A Couple of Hours Later_ -

The hours flew as slowly as an old man's sluggish, clumsy motions.

The wee hours of the morning were embraced by the eloquent, elating sound of the chirping birds, encompassing the grand, old, dilapidating façade by arresting and jailing prisoners whether for a few years or otherwise with a capital punishment for their vicious, relentless crimes they've committed against the general population, besides themselves. The prison, where Cayden and Andrea were under arrest and most of all being jailed until the trial that was about to be soon or rather within a couple of months for Cayden since he has committed maliciously bloodthirsty crimes unlike the inmate, whom he bumped into.

When the security guards of the wards released the prisoners to go in the common room by having a low-quality, loathing breakfast, the Italian compatriot seated all alone by himself since he didn't behold the blonde crowding with the horde of prisoners, sharing the similar or on the contrary peculiarly same fate as his.

What his breakfast diet was actually a glass of water, a plain, white mug of hot caffeine beverage, a cup of cream wheat, 3 oz. scrambled eggs and a toasted slice of wheat bread with margarine, sorted exquisitely in the platter that was sitting on the wooden old, mapped with scrapes table. His rueful chocolate brown irises as its most somber pigments were blazing, exposing its genuine nuances of his recent feelings and emotions. He felt like a hopeless, wretched soul behind the jail bars as if the serial killer felt like a phantom, peregrinating from one angle to another one. A grotesque, grimaced frown was swaying across his dry lips, lowering his stare sheepishly at his breakfast meal, playing absent-mindedly with the iron, rusty fork between his both fingers, shaping a gap.

Blatant laughs, cries and screams floated in the background, mingling altogether as if it beared a semblance of a madhouse common room. The turmoil's symphony was finally playing in the background. It didn't even necessitate any professionals or hobbyists.

"I never thought these bastards will be escorted by the cops to get me." In the meantime, the middle-aged man gawked glassily, blankly his platter without altering its nuances in his vision. "But it was sure Judy will survive and all this shit. I can't accept the defeat at all!" Murmur lingered on his tongue as his mouth was mildly salivating in slimy drip, resembling a vampire gore drip after slitting and drinking their preys' precious, erringly sweet blood, staining their ivory, vampiric teeth.

All of a sudden, the hooker set a foot in the common room with a platter of the same breakfast menu which every prisoner was ensured with after having a catnap that aggravated her condition as well. Her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips curled in pout, squinting up at the ducked head of the sole person she was socializing here since her arrest which was a day before Cayden's one.

"Morning, Cayden! Is everything fine?" In the interval, the middle-aged lady seated against the serial killer, crossing her legs graciously, whereas her both hands were on her lap, fidgeting.

"Everything is fine. Why ya are so worried, Andrea? Why do ya care about me?" He left aloof the fork in the platter by wedging his lips in a reluctant purse.

"Because you don't seem doing alright since the moment I saw you. You were nervous. You look like mad as a madman for something which you can't particularly judge yourself."

"Andrea, we barely know each other and yar acting as my lawyer even when ya don't know what I did for which I don't regret, but some people with sick minds like mine," In the meantime, the middle-aged man paused by turning to the both prisoners, who just got into a clash and the rest of the inmates were crying out loud, supporting their teams as well. "You don't seem messed up like me, Andrea! Trust me!" Then he turned to the hooker as she took his colossal, callous hand into her petite, surprisingly lukewarm, nevertheless, sanctuary of comfort hands.

"You don't even know my story to say I'm some kind of an innocent, Cayden!" The prostitute's lips curled at the riposte, whilst Cayden's pair of lips popped up like exploding firecrackers. "In fact, I'm a prostitute, does it mean I could have as sheer mind as a normal woman?" In the interim, the psychopath bobbed his head regretfully, swallowing hard at the thought of Andrea haivng an ill mind like his or even worse. "Absolutely no! Every one of us has some kind to a sick thought, swirling and whirling in our train of thoughts. Like spaghettis."

"We all do." A slight, calm smile was flashed upon his parchment complexion, sipping of his mug with coffee, whereas Andrea surveyed by the way he was drinking the morning coffee as its liquid caffeine gushed down with a benevolent, mischievous grin, honed up in the corner of her lips. "Can you imagine what I did when I was 25 and I was about to be married but a day before the wedding," The blonde took a deep breath as its oxygen surged from the top of her frail, flaring lungs as the puffed air mouthed, shortly before keeping on with her monologue.

"Don't be afraid to show yar true colors in the name of our friendship!" The Italian compatriot whispered in honeyed, seductive voice as it accentuated on his whisper.

"Dude, we've been knowing one another for a few hours and now telling into my face we're friends!" Andrea hissed in teasing manner, licking greedily, gamely her lips as the thumbs kneaded gently, encouragingly the back of his hand. "Oh Gosh, Cayden! It's ridiculous a friendship to exist just hours after 2 people meet one another even had a short conversation."

"At least, we can rely on each other."

"Well, let's cut the crap off, Cayden!" The hooker evoked out as her voice commenced to lace more stern, grave. Meantime, her well-defined cheeks tinted sanguinely, nibbling on the silky skin of her bottom, plumpish lip. "Just a day before the wedding as I was pregnant and my pregnancy was due in 2 months only, the arsehole dumped me as I stabbed him with scissors. He was in coma for a couple of days. I escaped Greendale so that to be here and escape from the authorities when they were looking for me, due to the attempted homicide. " Even when the unwed mother spilled the tea about her past, her heart was throbbing vigorously violent as paroxysm was sedating her bones and muscles, weakening them due to its sedating effect it has.

"Oh wow! Yar so badass. I bet the cops couldn't kick yar ass for being such a badass mother."

"They had a luck." Suddenly she took off an old cigarette pack from her jumpsuit's shallow pocket along with the lighter, offering him a cigarette for breakfast, whereas he couldn't neglect the offer right away, snatching the offered cigarette and gapping their lips when it was plugged. "In the name of ill minds, let's celebrate by having a cigar party!" In the interim, the Norwegian compatriot lit up the cigarettes, subsequently taking a drag of them and blowing fogging dim like canon.

"Thanks! It's so kind of ya, Andrea!" The middle-aged man expressed his gratitude as his heart warmed suddenly. "It's not yar fault for trying to save yars and yar baby's life. I bet he was unfaithful."

"Definitely, Cayden! His infidelity shattered my heart on trillions of pieces just before the wedding day as I had my revenge." A wickedly smug, pawky grin bloomed upon her yellow, parchment complexion as she took a puff at her cigar length and puffing the faint dim. "When I wasn't exactly in the first months of my pregnancy, he just looked at me as if I'm the ugliest and the fattest cow into his goddamn eyes. He was dating a skinnier woman, who was younger than me."

"I didn't mean to be prying or something, Andrea," At the moment, the middle-aged man hemmed and cleared his throat, sorting his whirlpool of thoughts before commencing with the inquisitive question that just resurfaced as an iceberg at the mist, abysmal seas of his mind. Cayden earned promptly her broody stare, shot at him as a bullet. "But what was yar ex's name, ya know?"

"Do ya want even to hear rather the ex-pig's name?" Dark sarcasm lingered as venom on her serpentine tongue, spitting directly its lethal rancoring poison, boiling vigorously blood into her veins due to the riveted fury, infecting her blood and cells. "I bet you'd hate it."

"Just mention his name, no matter how much do ya despise him. Huh?" The psychopath insisted obdurately without giving up as well.

"Oh okay! Just for you...Marcus Watson!"

"Marcus Watson?" The Italian compatriot enquired uncertainly, stammering as this name sounded familiar to him and his conscience.

"Mhm!" The blonde scrutinized the prisoner's facial features which were contoured with nonplussment, wedging her lips in a thoughtful purse.

"I think I know this dude."

"W-What? You know him in person?" The Norwegian compatriot questioned in immense bewilderment, furrowing apopleptically her eyebrows at the thought of her ex Marcus even when Cayden fessed that he knows him personally. "Is that even possible?"

"It's possible, Andrea! Don't get me wrong!"

"What about him? Isn't he a disgrace for you too?"

"Absolutely! He was a fantastic disappointment. We used to be friends and fighting for an attractive young lady. It was before yar pregnancy and long before ya both meet each other." The serial killer began his monologue as he took a drag on a cigarette and blowing severe, pungent of its reek dim and overspreading in the common room. "I and he were just twenty-year-old brats as he was the lucky arsehole for winning her. Marcus is a traitor and a nasty liar by telling lies behind my back to her. At last but not least, this nasty arsehole was telling Wendy that I've prepared a sack of drugs and I couldn't wait to meet her in my house's basement to dope ourselves." Then he exhaled abruptly then inhaled uneasily, swallowing a lump in his throat as he took another drag on his cigar length. "I'm glad I'm not the only one, who antagonize Marcus."

"Me either. And that's why I can see some kind of connection between us." The middle-aged lady burst out laughing in half-hearted manner, slapping with her solely free hand her knee. "Cayden, what happened to your child?"

"Ya mean my daughter, if ya ask?"

"Yeah, your daughter!" In the meantime, the hooker emphasized the last 2 words, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, rosy-coloured lip loathely.

"Oh, she is already grown up adult and she still lives here just like my older brother Sebastian!" The psychopath heaved a reluctant exhale from the top of his frail lungs as its oxygen surged promptly. "But they live seperately."

"Sweet Jesus, Cayden! How did they not betray ya yet?"

"They know about my crimes and they aren't even ashamed of me." Meantime, the middle-aged man's lip curled at the answer, taking a final drag on his cigar until he stubbed it out in the ashtray at last. "They still love and support me for who I'm."

"It makes me happy to hear all this!" All of a sudden, the prostitute's voice drastically lowered its decibels at the thought of her daughter, who alienated from her mother, due to the fact she's serving the high class prostitution especially after her sole child turned 16 and she didn't want to be associated with Andrea anymore. Rueful, pristine frown swinged across her lips. "I-It's not the same with my daughter, not gonna lie." She bobbed her head ruefully.

"What do you mean with this, dear? Isn't she ashamed and disgusted by you?"

"She's definitely disgusted by me since she was a little girl. She couldn't bear the fact that I'm a hooker and I haven't even finished high school so that to have a diploma to work something decent," The middle-aged single mother provided yet in low voice the incarnation of her heartbreak as not just a lady, who not only has a bad luck with the men, but also as a mother of only child that doesn't wish even to have any associations with her creator. "My daughter, who left me when she was 16 years old only is the reason why I'm even more broken woman. I'm not feeling like a mother anymore, Cayden. At least, you have somebody by your side unlike me." Inward, somber sniffles were audible as sirens as a crystal, bittersweet tear dripped from Andrea's midnight black pool as her eyelids were as ruddy as if she has smoked the most potent weed.

"Andrea, it's a shame yar daughter doesn't understand that she has her own mother! Regardless the president of the USA, a nun, an accountant or even a prostitute," In the meantime, the Italian compatriot considered as his both callous, colossal hands took her smaller, frail ones as the thumbs kneaded the back of her hands, emboldening her sniffles to subdue in the thin air in a jiff. "She mustn't underestimate ya as if ya are a random stranger for her. Just imagine if something terrible happens to ya, will she give a damn about ya then?" Huskiness accentuated his Italian accent by leaning to grease his baby pinkish lips against her pale as snow temple in a plain, friendly forehead kiss.

"I bet no." Pessimism, dryness left her lips after spitting the venom with her venomous serpentine tongue, subsequently empoisoning her preys, ducking her head faintly even when she was deeply touched by Cayden's vast enthusiasm and selflessness without judging his psychotic character. "I'm sure she would never bother even to pay a visit to my gravestone except to spit on it and cry out loud that I'm an awful whore, who isn't a mother."

"Andrea, do not talk like that! When the things are too late, therefore yar daughter will profoundly regret what she did so that to alienate from ya!" The middle-aged man released one of his callous, monstrous hands from the grip by lifitng it up to her chin, in order to grab it with a handful of fingers and tilting her head to meet his piercing stare.

"I hope she realizes sooner or later she has her own mother, who strongly loves her and cares about her to death." Andrea's tearful voice was opting to pinpointing a wee hint of optimism, although the failed attempt. "But I can do nothing about it."

"When it was the last time when ya saw yar daughter?"

"The last time when I saw Cassandra was 2 years after her alienation from me." The blonde answered by dabbing with a thumb her last drying tears as soon as the sniffles extinguished gradually. "I remember how I was on my way to home and I saw her with her boyfriend and she was pregnant. Her belly alook like as if she was in the first months of her pregnancy. Even Cassandra had gained weight then and she was wearing larger clothes." In the interval, the psychopath nodded his head excitedly, attentively listening to the prisoner as he wedged his lips in a begrudging, pensive purse. "I was indeed gleeful they're expecting a baby very soon and for my surprise, Cassandra's boyfriend was nice to me. He didn't even humiliate me when my daughter was telling me to stay away from them and their family as well. Cassandra was screaming at me I was a bloody tart, whilst David, her boyfriend, was yelling at her to stop with yelling at me and calling me bad names."

"Briefly, David stood for ya whilst Cassandra whilst yar daughter was treating ya as a shit? Right?"

"Exactly!" Meantime, the prostitute swallowed a solid lump, formed in her throat as she hemmed, chewing her bottom lip. "David is a decent gentleman and I bet Cassandra told him everything about me."

"I'm sure they had disagreements when it comes up to yar name."

"Well, I think David told her that no matter if I'm a slut or whatever I'm supposed to be, I'm her mother and she shouldn't overlook me as if I'm a random stranger, not existing for her." The middle-aged woman hypothesized as her lips curled.

"I bet David likes ya as a mother-in-law."

"He loves me, regardless my position and my mistakes. Think twice what happened miraculously a couple of times to me or almost every week until I got in this shithole."

"Ya saw yar grandkids and David?"

"Yeah, I did, Cayden! The last time when I saw them was 5 days ago. Kathy and Jack are such adorable little treasures which I've never overlooked since their birth. They're doubtlessly gorgeous children like their parents." Heartache was obvious in her utterance when she thought of her grandchildren and the last time when she beheld them with David altogether. "They love me too, no matter how much their mother has brainwashed them. They call me nana, tho." In the meanwhile, she grabbed a handkerchief to blow her nose by ducking her head for a split second until the slimy snots were stuck on the cotton fabric.

"Aww, that's cute they call ya nana!" All of a sudden, the common room's door was opened by drawing promptly the prisoners' attentions by darting their orbs to a police officer, whose handcuffs were girded in the belt, producing clinking sound with every movement.

"Mr. Gray, you have a visitor!" The cop cautioned half-heartedly.

"_Sugar pie, honey bunch__! __You know that I love you__! __I can't help myself__! __I love you and nobody else__ i__n and out my life__! __You come and you go__! __Leaving just your picture behind__ a__nd I kissed it a thousand times__!_" Four Top's song I can't help myself was recently playing on the radio inside the flower store, whilst Madeleine and Judy were sharing a small tea party by themselves, awaiting for more customers to enter inside the store and improve their business as well.

"Are you feeling better, Judy?" The young woman posed the question in caring manner, sipping of the hot black tea as it scarcely scalding her tongue and the corners of her mouth.

"Sure! Why?" The elder blonde replied and questioned in the same time as an acerbic smile touched her lips delicately, squinting up her caramel brown pools at her protégé as her temple creased.

"Do not play it the silly, Judy! You were widely awake in 4 o'clock in the morning which makes sense why you seem so," At the moment, the Michiganian cautioned sardonically as she licked her tea-stained lips greedily, gamely after savoring it in a simple sip.

"Seem so what?"

"So restless." Madeleine emphasized the adjective calmly by glimpsing at the door and windows, in case, if a customer is about to enter the store in a jiffy. "I've the feeling the last night has highly affected your life."

"That's true, Maddie! It affected me negatively."

"Not only negatively, honey!" The Michiganian left the mug aloof by cupping the former sister of the church's cheek into the palm of her surprisingly warm, creamy as velvet hand as the slim, pristine fingers traced her well-defined cheekbone in admiration of her grace. "But also positively," Thereafter the juvenile seller tucked stray aureate tresses behind the former nun's sensitive, petite ear by finishing it with a peck on her cheek. "I didn't mean to behave like a parent, whilst you as the kid but do you realize finally you can't trust anyone even if you're head over heels in love with them?"

"_When you snap your finger or wink your eye__! __I come a-running to you__! __I'm tied to your apron strings__ a__nd there's nothing that I can do__! __I can't help myself__! __No, I can't help myself__! __Sugar pie, honey bunch__!_"

"I do, Maddie!" The Bostonian affirmed her words by swallowing hard at the thought of her big mistake which she did the last days especially the night before by blindly not rejecting the first date and noting the cues of dangers before being locked in the attic. "I don't want to repeat myself all over again but I do finally realize how naïve I was, when Cayden was on my mind until the things happened by themselves." Jude puffed by sipping her black tea, pausing for awhile until she resumes her exclaimation. "On my mind with the thousands of butterflies in my belly even when I've feelings for somebody else. It's criminally unexplainable how I can like 2 men not just as friends but romantically until one of them's masks fell off, exposing the face of the evil which I shouldn't look at." In the interim, Jude's unnerved play of her fidgety fingers was more than explainable than her stammer behind the unspeakable feelings she had for Timothy and Cayden but in much different ways with shocking differences. It caught even the juvenile blonde's corner of the eye, following the fidgety fingers' play. "And I got totally disgusted by him. Cayden. The compliments and the nice stuff which he did for me to be constantly smiling and being blissful are just a total lie I've been living for awhile. These tactics of his were absolutely manipulative so that to conquer my heart and then trap me in the hell." Handdogged whisper poked out of her lips, exhaling sharply when the toughest dilemma froze her blizzard of thoughts. The feelings for a former priest and a serial killer were a huge difference. Not just for her mind, howsoever, for her heart. Nevertheless, her mind and heart instantly answered the tough question. Disgust, shame and ill will were the sole feelings the former licentious jazz nightclub singer felt for the Italian compatriot. Nothing more. Even the brightest smile he has ever brought her with the honeyed words and the compliments, it was no longer kissing her lips at the thought of the infamous man, himself. He was just like a traumatic memory from the past, causing her nausea every time she thought of him at least or somebody brought the subject about him.

"H-How about yar boyfriend Tim? The father of yar ray of sunshine Edward Ralph?" Madeleine inquired, struggling to ask the first question, due to the fact she thought initially her mentor hasn't changed much her opinion of her former lover at all.

"The things changed for much better." Ruddiness powdered her chubby, well-shaped cheeks especially when Madeleine mentioned that Timothy was Judy's boyfriend as a sheepish, girlish smile flourished on her pale as ghost, porcelain face. Noticing her protégé to gawk at her mentor's fidgety fingers' play was mildly irritating for her due to the distraction. "Believe me, ya were definitely right! He cares about me and he wants the best for me, regardless our mistakes and our pasts. Why I was such a fool to ignore his selflessness and sincerity in being caring and loving and instead I thought I was seeing the old Timothy Howard? The manipulative, selfish, blinded by its amibiton and tremendously stubborn priest."

"_I'm weaker than a man should be__! __I can't help myself__! __I'm a fool in love, you see__ w__ant to tell you I don't love you__! __Tell you that we're through__ a__nd I've tried__, b__ut ev'ry time I see your face__!_" Temporal, embarrassing silence arched between the both ladiesas the music was still playing in the background.

"He has 2 faces as his true identity has always been in front of your eyes. The priest behind the mask and the real, normal man he is maskless. You know him perfectly well, Judy! Don't be blinded by his mistakes in the past! Focus on the present and future!" An inner voice echoed through the former member of the clergy's head as a whisper in a dilapidating, forsaken façade which hasn't being resided or functioning for decades.

"You're a smart and strong woman, Judy! Do not whine about who might be Timothy! Even a priest or not, he's the person who got you out of the mess with Cayden!" A second inner voice cautioned inwardly to her, causing her hazy hallucinating voices babbling to her as if a communication with the spirits was established. "And the Briarcliff mess too!"

"Is everything alright, Judy?" Madeleine's velvety, concerned voice broke the ice by snapping the former sister of the church out of her train of thoughts immediately as their gazes met, locking up them. The elder blonde's heart skipped a single beat momentarily when the silence wasn't fogging the common ambience.

"It's fine, Maddie! Everything is fine, sweetie!" The Bostonian excused herself meekly without opting to draw any additional attention. Her anterior ivory, yet firm for her age teeth nipped her bottom rosy-coloured, tea-stained lip in reluctance.

"You looked very absent-minded as if you were in yar own reverie with that embarrassing silence."

"I didn't mean to, Maddie! It's such a dilemma after the elimination of the wrong one, therefore the question is if Timothy is the right man for me?"

"He is absolutely the right man for you, Judy! Trust me!" The juvenile saleswoman clarified, patting kindly her friend's shoulder, encouraging her to not lose any faith in her love interest and the damned feelings she had for him, harboring them for weeks and months though in complicatedly arcane way. "He did everything for ya to get out of the shithole and the mess ya have been through. No matter the mistakes and his deeds, he really loves ya! I can undeniably tell by judging his actions."

"I'm confused, Maddie!"

"What confuses you?"

"I've harbored feelings for him especially romantic and which are more than just a plain friendship. I'm perplexed if I should trust my instincts to tell him right away what I feel for him or wait for the ideal moment on the contrary."

"_I get all choked up inside__ w__hen I call your name__! __Girl, it starts the flame__! __(Burning in my heart__! __Tearing it all apart)__No matter how I try__ m__y love I cannot hide__!_"

"Tell him what you feel for him and make sure he's sincere for his feelings for ya too!"

"I'll but I'm sure he feels the same as me!"

"I'm completely sure he does. However, the mutual confessions are the best way to confess yar own feelings for him! Regardless, if it's brought the topic on a private dinner, on the St. Valentine day or whatever day the hell is." Merry, quiet giggle tickled the corners of the young woman's mouth after concluding her utterance, offering a sympathetic, warmhearted to her mentor. "I'm sure the first kiss will happen then or shortly before yar confessions."

"It depends!" Her lips harmonized like harmonica the syllables, raising an arch elegantly of her eyebrow at the thought of the first ever romantic kiss which she might share with her love interest.

"Are ya afraid of something, dear?"

"How do ya think, Maddie? Huh?" The former pious member of the church heaved an exhale from the top of her lungs as the question surged her lips, biting her lip.

"Timothy won't bite ya. That's for sure false if he was able to bite ya or something."

"I fear the romance and the sex won't be the same with him after this pregnancy. After gaining weight and having stretch marks on my abdomen along with a scar after giving a birth," The former devotional holy woman muttered, lowering her big, feline hazelish-brown orbs to her small, round belly as a whirlpool of thoughts allowed the icebergs resurface with the consequences of the pregnancy. The stretch marks. The extra pounds which weren't naturally hypodermic then with her bony, petite frame. The drastic change in her worldview as she had a bonus life she should look after until it grows up and being independable from his creators as well. It wasn't just an obligation. It was inherented. It was inescapable for her and the British aristocrat. They were parents even as an unwed bond. They weren't the pious members of the church, known for their celibacy and the celestial dream they pursued and worked so hard to reach up to their goal at last. Their real names didn't wear any titles to conceal their mereness. They were just Judy Martin and Timothy Howard. The typical adults with their own needs, their own right to be whether married or divorced except to do anything that the church has abstained them from doing it for a decade and a half.

"Oh, Judy, Judy!" Meantime, the Michiganian slapped her forehead with the palm of her solely free hand, rolling her eyes at annoyance due to her mentor's low self-esteem when it comes up to the intimate life, appearance and the post-pregnancy. Her lip carved in a pout due to the older lady's endless pessimism, which was feudening her youthful optimism and realism that were cusping. "You don't have any idea how much this man loves ya. No matter the post-pregnancy or being as skinny as a model, he will still love ya and the real man won't abandon you just because of yar figure before or after pregnancy."

"_'Cause sugar pie, honey bunch__! __You know that I'm weak for you__! __I can't help myself__! __I love you and nobody else__! __Sugar pie, honey bunch__ d__o anything you ask me to__!_"

"I wish he loved me even if I'm no longer young and beautiful." The Bostonian muffled a whisper that was almost dead on her tongue as she sipped of the gradually cooling black tea.

"He loves you and you're still beautiful without any doubt." Madeleine stubbornness attempted to increase her mentor's self-steem as her self-consciousness was one of the most crucial bids at the moment. "You are even more beautiful without make-up and the shit that the Hollywood actresses do to conceal any sign of their naturality."

"Oh! Brother?" The middle-aged man gasped by pawing with his big, cold hand his chest, feeling underneath his palm's touch the incessant accelerating pulsation of his hammering heart into his ribs cage, whilst his older brother being accompanied with Cayden's sole daughter, Martha. A slight, sheepishly beatific smile bloomed on his dry lips even when his idle gawk met Martha's the warmest chocolate irises, following her father's motions. "Martha!" The serial killer mumbled his only child's name, noting the recent visitors seating on one of the tables as he joined them in no time.

"Cayden! I'm so pleased to see you, my brother!" Sebastian got from his seat by scooping his younger brother into a tight, kindhearted embrace as their chests were pressed. "I know what ya did, bro!"

"I know either. I'm not ashamed at all." Shortly after they broke off the hug, then Martha got from the table by taking her father into her frail, slender arms in a tight and warm hug.

"Dad, I missed you so damn much!"

"Dad missed you too so much, honey!" In the meantime, Cayden rubbed the young lady's back, stifling her sniffles which may be spontaneous in a jiffy. As soon as they broke off the embrace, they sat on the table.

Eventually Martha was a young lady in the beginning of her 20s as she possessed an olive-tanned skin tone, elegant facial features, inherited from her mother such as the button nose, small ears and thin eyebrows, despite her hair texture was parallel to her father's one such as straight with chestnut pigments. Further, the juvenile medical student was wearing as usually ornate dresses or jumpsuits with shirt beneath them in pale colors, besides she was a student in a medical university for a handful of years with excellent marks. At last but not least she was as tall as 5'4 only with slender body built.

Whereas Sebastian was in his late 40s as he was childless and unwed man. His skin tone was as tanned as a South European with sharp, yet young-looking facial features, tattooed on his parchment complexion. He was as tall as his younger brother and possessing muscular, nonetheless burly body frame along with chocolate brown eyes and thin lips. At last but not least, his hair was grizzly and peaking its length to the nape of his neck.

"You don't seem to be fine, bro!"

"I don't, not gonna lie, Sebby!" In the interval, the younger man uttered the syllables with faint struggle as his lips curled, producing its response. "Thanks to one poof and the young dumb blond who exposed me, I'm here!"

"I know so far even a former nun is involved in this, dad!" The brunette emphasized the former position of the former administrator of the most notorious madhouse in Boston. Martha's eyebrows furrowed at the thought of the middle-aged mother, who escaped successfully the psychopath's attic even his property, thanks to her friends.

"That's true, darling! It's all her fault her friends acknowledged her absence even doubted me by finding out my real address and sending the cops to get me." Meantime, a gloomy, ironic grin curled upon his pale-pinkish lips.

"I believe you will be released sooner or later. Either by paying the cops or you escape as soon as possible." Sebastian added as his younger sibling licked greedily, wickedly his lips at the thought of prison break.

"I doubt it. After the trial, I'm incredibly screwed, Sebby! Don't ya get it after these homicides of women, collecting their organs and skinning their corpses what awaits me, besides with the attempted rape of that ex-nun?" At the moment, Sebastian and Martha bobbed their heads in agreement, acknowledging what Cayden's goose is going to be cooked very soon. "A capital punishment and being sentenced to life to rot like an ant." Then he lifted up his colossal, veiny hand to scratch his scalp with his forenails which haven't been trimmed for a few days.

"I know. But we will do every possible thing to get you out of here or at least to get rid off from your rivals, dad!" All of a sudden, the medical student took her father's hand into her elvish, pristine one as the thumb kneaded the back of his lukewarm one, in order to alleviate and encourage him that the things will be okay somehow and one day. "Just tell me their names and I'll do everything possible to pleading your guilty, although the vicious homicides of these women."

"It's too dangerous, Martha! I won't allow you to get hurt or something." In the meantime, the single father puffed a stray inhale, trying to not admire his daughter and older brother's alluring perfumes, taunting his nostrils which brightly contrasted the stench behind the jail bars' cells with the lack of hygiene, the reek of urine and the low-quality of meals they're being granted the inmates, themselves. "I swear to God, if I lose you as my last hope from my family with my brother Sebby, I'll go insane and I'll kill the bastard who dares to mop the floor with yar corpses or tries to harm my family at least."

"I'm going to be Martha's teammate, in case, if the things with prison aren't okay." The childless man declared solemnly, taking a vow to become a team player with Cayden's only daughter by combating against the Howards and Madeleine.

\- _Later Tonight_ -

The hours flew as quickly as the swarm of birds when the summer days were dying gradually, whereas the autumn ones were approaching approximately swiftly without an ado.

Whilst Judy was upstairs to breastfeed Edward and to bathe him by changing him into his pajamas and lul him for bedtime, the former aspiring Monsignor was setting a picnic blanket in the yard with some sandwiches with tuna, lettuce, tomatoes and margarine along with hot chocolate mugs.

Once the former sister of the church finished with putting her son to slumber in his crib by chanting him serenely a lullaby with her eloquent, dazzling voice, she descended the stairs by pacing up to the kitchen to drink some water until she was met with an empty kitchen. Her former lover was gone and little did she know about his current location.

"Where the hell he's gone?" The middle-aged mother questioned a soft whisper which tickled her lips, absently twirling and curling stray gilt tresses on her finger as spaghetti, while her other hand grasped the glass of cool, fresh water.

"Jude, over here!" The younger man waved with a hand, ushering the former woman of the cloth to notice him at the yard on the picnic blanket as a childishly content grin hugged his lips. He cried out loud her name as her heart raced, verging to choke with the water sip, which sealed inside her throat.

"Just a second, Timothy!" The Bostonian evoked out under her breath, leaving aloof the glass of water on the countertop, consequently walking away from the kitchen dress up herself in warmer, convenient garments for outdoors.

Within a few minutes later, the blonde was already outside, marching up to the picnic blanket, in order to join the British aristocrat as they were sitting peacefully on it. Their dark irises were transfixed on the scintillating with its pale moonlight moon, hanging up in the nocturnal, abysmally somber sky and being encompassed by hive of millions of sheening stars, outnumbering it.

"It's unbelievable ya organized this moonlight picnic, Tim!" The older woman whispered in honeyed voice with her firm Boston accent as she sipped of the mug with hot chocolate, relishing its sweet taste, lacing her tongue. A soft, content smile brushed her lips as her sole make-up which she was graced to beguile without even trying.

"At least, it's part of our diplomacy and to achieve a mutual peace, Jude! Only if it makes sense." Timothy snaked suddenly a muscly, strong arm around his love interest's waist as his fingers gingerly, delicately were hardly tipping her slim waist which startled the blonde initially until she mustered with the touch of her former boss, throughout becoming a second nature for her as well.

"It makes brilliant sense, because we're already diplomatic and it's high time to take the further step."

"I bet we've already took it." The British compatriot replied as his baby pinkish, luscious lips pursued to grease whether her cheek or a temple since he loved her as a friend and caging the romantic feelings he deeply has for the former holy woman. Meanwhile, his lips peppered her cheek and temple with a tender, feather kiss as she melted into the platonic kiss. "Edward helps us to get back together, no matter the circumstances and our mistakes from the past which we shouldn't focus right now, because they're part of our past and they have nothing to do with our present and future."

"Definitely!" In the interim, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer laid her head on his muscular, protective shoulder, glancing at his handsome, darkened by the nocturnal shadows youthful face. "T-Timothy!"

"Huh? Yes, rare bird? Anything is bothering you?" All of a sudden, by the way the former woman of the cloth addressed her former lover aroused his concerns, noting something leery. At the moment, his solely free hand left aside the mug with sweltering chocolate after sipping a couple of times by managing up to take her solely free petite, cold hand into his amusingly warm, larger one as the fingers massaged her knuckles, admiring its smallness, femininity.

"Timothy, do you actually hate me?" The suddenness of the question that was spilled as lethal venom from the serpentine venomous tongue shocked the former holy man to bones.

"W-Why to hate you, Jude? You did nothing wrong against me and it's totally okay to make any mistakes by being blinded at first until you realize your naivety and what chimed you to believe the baloney." Meantime, the former priest scooped in a firm, endlessly affectionate embrace his love interest as her head was cocked back against his chest, relishing the power of the embrace that was encircling her frail skeleton. She couldn't help but darting her hazelish-brown orbs to his chocolate brown ones. Hazel meeting chocolate, subsequently locking up them. His chocolate brown eyes were smiling at hers. "There's no reason to hate you for anything."

"I thought ya will despise me, because of this bastard shit I messed ya and made ya to be involved with. Ya don't deserve to be brutally harmed as much as I did. I aint a saint, Tim!"

"Nobody is saint in this world, rara avis! Believe me, there are tough times when you question yourself and your deeds when you must worry the least." His embrace was rather soothing even consoling the middle-aged mother, who was finding least comfort in her daily life by working as a saleswoman in a flower store, looking after almost a five-month-old baby and struggling to work on the toxic, still ongoing relationship with her former boss. "Do not question your deeds and yourself, because there are much worse things which will escalate the level of your anxiety! The anxiety looks ugly on you!" Even when the British aristocrat was opting to console the blonde, howsoever, Judy assimilated how reassuring and sweet is what Timothy does for her especially his poetric last sentence that escaped his lips. "I'm forgiving you for what you did to me with this psychopath stuff."

"Thank ya for yar understanding and forgiveness!" Shortly after snuggling and drowning themselves into one another's platonically romantic embraces, the former devotional members of the clergy fell asleep under the vibrant moonlight, allowing its winter's gust blowing and playing with Jude's lion mane of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses, framing ideally her angelic, still young-looking porcelain complexion. Even during their unpredictable kipping, Edward and their further issues were pleasantly oblivious for them, satisfying them with peace and lack of concerns.

Author's Note: Since the slowburn plays exquisitely sweet as a normal slowburn, what do you think will happen in the future chapters especially the St. Valentine's one in Jude and Timothy's cases? Drop your guesses or alleged ideas! As soon as the St. Valentine part approaches, it will be visible if your guesses are compatitable with the slowburn's concept.


	13. Welcome to the Game

Author's Brief Note or a wee spoiler before starting the reading journey: A new character is going to appear in the chapter. Be ready for abundance of dynamics!

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Andrea, do not talk like that! When the things are too late,therefore yar daughter will profoundly regret what she did so that to alienatefrom ya!" _

_"I hope she realizes sooner or later she has herown mother, who strongly loves her and cares about her to death. But I can do nothing about it."_

_"That's true, Maddie! It affected me negatively."_

_"Not only negatively,honey! But also positively, I didn't mean tobehave like a parent, whilst you as the kid but do you realize finally youcan't trust anyone even if you're head over heels in love with them?"_

_"Oh! Brother? Martha?"_

_"Cayden! I'm sopleased to see you, my brother! I know what ya did,bro!"_

_"Nobody is saint in this world, rara avis!Believe me, there are tough times when you question yourself and your deedswhen you must worry the least. Do not question your deeds and yourself, becausethere are much worse things which will escalate the level of your anxiety! Theanxiety looks ugly on you! I'm forgiving you for what you did to me withthis psychopath stuff."_

_"Thank ya for yar understanding andforgiveness!" _

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _5th of February, 1966 _-

The wee hours of the early February morning was embraced by the mild winter breeze as it gently was tickling with its dispersing invisible chilly waves the former members of the clergy's exposed fleshes.

Their food and mugs of already cooled chocolate abided untouched like corpses of formal mortals, which were left for awhile without being gathered for a buration or otherwise a cremation. The blonde's head laid on the younger man's lap as his both muscular, secure arms scooped her in a loosen embrace since they've lost consciousness and utter control on their moonlight picnic the last night.

They puffed muffled light snores that buzzed their lips like sluggish buzzing of car engine, whereas their frail lungs pumped as their faint quantity of oxygen during their kipping condition was produced.

Once the both former pious members of the church came to their senses followed by mere with morning breaths yawns, zinging their lips and rubbing with their balled fists their still drowsy eyes, they didn't get from the picnic blanket as they relished the wee romantic moment they were sharing since the night before.

"Good morning, Tim!" The Bostonian's drastically rapid haphazard shift of her caramel brown pools up to the pair of chocolate brown sent her shivers down her body of unspeakable pleasure and sweetness, besides her stomach faintly aggressively growled in embarrassment as it has been hours since she has eaten anything. Even any tiny quantity of chunk.

"Morning, rare bird!" Honeyed with British accent mumble tickled with its warm breath her scalp as Timothy leant down to graze with his pale-pinkish, soft as velvet lips her temple with a tender, morning kiss. In the meantime, the Bostonian molted delicately in the peck on her temple as she fluttered shut in slits shape her eyelids once she felt her former lover's lips contacting her milky as vanilla epidermis.

"_It feels so good, when he does that._" An inner voice echoed as the sole echo, unduly audible in a godforsaken, dilapidating façade which hasn't been functioning not just for years, however, for decades. "_Especially when he kisses your temple with his soft, pink lips. It's as sweet as a heaven, isn't it, Judy?_" The same inner voice, mimicking the middle-aged mother's as if a spectral was actually conversating with her sent her electrifying paroxysm and shivers, sedating her bones and muscles as their stamina was succumbed by the sweetness of the forehead and platonic kisses, which spell was inescapably invincible, lethal. "_How about if these luscious, pink lips are either pressed on your lips, hardening the kiss in a sultry one and his wet, pristine tongue ushers ya to duel each other?_" Sanguine pigment tinted her chubby, well-defined cheeks as sweltering heat crawled beneath her facial skin. The inner, fiendishly succumbing with its desirable reverie mumbled into her mind as the former sister of the church ducked her head meekily awkward, allowing its sinful sandstorm of thoughts plaguing her especially shortly after, when she was no longer drown in her beauty slumber. "_Or rather, his insatiably pink lips gingerly grazing yar labia until they lower to yar hard clit and core as his tongue is savoring yar sweet juices, and his teeth are nipping the hardness of its bundle of nerves_."

"_Come on, Judy! If you're feeling this for Timothy, just do it or take the next step at least_." Another inner voice buzzed through her cells.

"S-Stop it! Everything has the right time for whatever is it." The older lady muttered under her breath which was solely audible for her, thanks to her exceeding, self-conscious control over her decibels.

"Is everything okay, Jude?" Suddenly, the former man of the cloth noted his love interest's porcelain, still youthful face was naturally powdered in flush which caught them off guard in the same time as the posed question earned momentarily Jude's attention.

"Yeah, yeah! Everything is fine, Tim! Ya mustn't be that concerned." The Bostonian's brightest caramel glinted as the question triggered her humble gut, designating up to her throat.

"_He's deadly concerned about you, regardless what's on yar mind._" One of the inner voices reemerged into her head as a reccuring eerie whisper in the pitchest-black darkness. "_Or what rather makes ya blush to yar guts._"

"_I wish ya stopped telling me what's going on, because I truly know the real Timothy Howard. He's really caring, selfless, persistent and loving man. He isn't as deadly concerned as yar tiny voice hyperbolically portrays him._" She wished she could face the inner voice's true face, telling into it what was dying as mumble on her tongue.

"It was unexpected, when I fell asleep that abruptly." Ruefulness jeopardized her bashful excuse for falling asleep the night before into his arms as they expected to spend hours under the moonlight widely awake, spilling the tea even commenting the pettiest, thought-provoking detail behind the esthetically nocturnity that was captured in the corner of their photogenic eye. "I'm sorry." Even the pettiest, almost pointless apology would resuscitate Timothy's stubbornness, persuading her on the contrary the apologies for falling asleep or pointless stuff shouldn't even be part of her care to poke her tongue tip.

"There's nothing you should be sorry for, Jude!" The former religious man of the cloth clarified softly, combing delicately, featherly a grassland of gilt tresses between his adroit, long fingers, admiring the crispy softness of her long wavy gilt hair. The gardenerias and rose aroma of her hair was as succumbing as the forbidden fruit in the Eden's green, isolated from any corner of the world highlands garden. "The excuse for falling asleep abruptly into my arms," Wry, grimly jubilant chuckle flexed his oral caverns and jawline. "Makes absolutely no sense at all! It's perfectly normal sometimes to allow its natural needs to command your body and muscles as they relax."

"To relax? Don't be ridiculous, Timothy!" Huskily sarcastic snicker wasn't oppressed by the former holy woman, rubbing gingerly, lightly her temple with her fingertips, soothing for an eventual headache or migraine. "Edward was left without any supervision as we were outside all night. Just imagine what mess may have happened to that adorable cherub angel! Through the night especially when we weren't the next room's door to witness the high-pitched cries of hunger or another primary need of his." Hassle retaliated as bonus attack to Timothy's cusping optimism and realism, in order to reassure his former lover. Although the instincts exhorted Jude to go inside the two-story mansion and go upstairs to check on her son by taking care of him with his common breakfast, bathing and spending time with him, on other hand her guts loafed her as she rather readily relished to spend her leisure time with her love interest, letting her comfort zone to predominate over her craves to snuggle into his strong, muscly arms that ensured her reliable security.

"At least, he's slightly older than what he used to be the first weeks of his fresh life. He's changing!"

"Whether if he has changed or not at all, I really need to check on him. It's serious as my responsibility. Or," In the interval, mildly vexed growl quivered her bared teeth, due to Timothy's lack of responsibility for Edward. Her grimaced glare was casted as a curse at his chocolate brown pools, which shimmered far from dull, nevertheless, aggressively vivid nuances. Dumbfoundingly scintillating. "Yar the one, otherwise, who's also a parent and has the entire responsibility to take care of our angel." Meanwhile, her baleful growl placated as they got from the picnic blanket immediately as they commenced to take the things back in the house. Judy took the mugs with once hot chocolate, whereas Timothy's hands were occupied with the emptied plates.

"Alright! I got it. You're undeniably right!" Timothy preferred rather to evade the feudening bickers that verged to hostilize them again just like with Cayden and the manipulations before fleeing the madhouse. Further, the younger man wasn't a keen fan of the heated discussions and bickers since they were envenoming his nerves, permitting his adrenaline to proliferate unrealistically, in spite of his nonchalant character. "I didn't mean to argue with you or something, you're doubtlessly right! It's urgent to look after him."

As soon as the former devotional members of the church have brought back every single item which was part of their moonlight picnic, the former licentious jazz nightclub singer towered the stairway to the second floor hastily without wasting any valuable time to see her son. All she could hear in the muted by its silence hallway was his uncontrollable blubber, colliding like radioactive waves through the walls.

"Oh shit! The poor sunshine!" The former holy woman muffled a frustrated mutter, touching her lips as she opened the children's room door. Guilty conscience and self-hatred flushed the constricted chest of the middle-aged mother at the sight of her desolated baby son. "I'm so sorry for leaving ya without supervision, my little cupcake! I didn't mean truly to do it, but sometimes Mommy's being tempted by her personal needs." In the interim, she excused herself in gloomily jeering manner, rimming her guilty conscience that was eating her slowly, consciously. Her elvish, secure hands scooped in a warm, doting hug her ray of sunshine by lifting up and changing his diapers in a jiffy, subsequently sitting on the edge of the bed as a couple of undone buttons leaked like sagging icicles, verging to topple with its razor-edged glacial ridge. "Come on, baby boy! Ya need to be feed in a jiff." The blonde cupped the infant's head, encouraging his both wee, amusingly warm hands to cup her breast, poising it for his tiny lips to spoon the erected, nonetheless sore mauve nipple, suckling its natural breast milk as his big hazelish-brown pools, fueled with babyish peckishness pigmented the sheerest, the most vibrant hazelish nuances as his hunger beared a semblance of a baby grabber.

"M-M," The syllable was slowly and surely dying in the infant's mumble, focused on breastfeed as anything else which had high distracting effect was oblivious for the little boy.

"Good boy, Edward! I'm relieved it wasn't too late when I came here to feed ya." Her slim, doting fingers warily caressed her ray of sunshine's head along with his sparse curly blond hair that had ambiguous types of touches. Distracting and encouraging. Distracting since these platonic caresses weren't promising to pay attention on the recent task at all. Encouraging, in order soothe him in a simple touch, finding comfort and peace. "Once again I'm so sorry for leaving ya without supervision since the last night. " The softness of her firm Bostonian accent contrasted the velvetness, pigmenting each tiny, subtle note of her apology.

"_He's too young to understand you, stupid! He's just an almost five-month-old infant. Don't ya get it?_" The same inner voice reccured with its antagonizing tonality in its rejoinder, tingling her ears.

In spite of the defiant retaliation of her inner voices, the middle-aged lady preffered to abide neutral and not utter anything under her breath as if she was nigh some stranger, on the contrary he would take her for a lunatic, whose exact residence for people like her should be a nuthouse.

All of a sudden, masculine, sufficiently audible footsteps emanated from the corridor as the sole person with the same footsteps was recognizable for the former promiscuous nightclub singer. It was her love interest.

"_Perhaps he has finished with the task to clear the terrain, where our moonlight picnic took its place the last night_." Judy's another inner voice convinced her otherwise with mellow tonality.

"May I come?" A handful of innocently potent door taps snapped Jude out of her train of thoughts by glimpsing as she rotated her head to the shut door, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip loathely. "Jude?"

"Y-Yes! Come in."

"Oh goodness! I finished the rest of the task and I'm so relieved Edward is doing fine." At the moment, Timothy stepped in the children's room by closing and shutting the door behind him as his light footsteps traced invisible tracks on the ground, ambling up to his rare bird and their love child. Suddenly in the corner of his eye, he could behold the the stark fullness, roundness of her breast fogging his blizzard of thoughts by transfixing on the completely innocent scenery of a mother allowing her child to suckle its breast milk.

"He's fine. I found him blubbering until it was me, who soothed him." Pit of relief arrayed in the middle of his stomach.

"That's good!"

Who could blame Timothy for his equivocal gape at such scenery? On one hand, his reverie fogged him with the sheer viridity of a mother, nursing her angel. Isn't it just lovely the scenery?

On other hand, his reverie tantalitized him with explicitly graphic images of if he put himself in the baby's shoes and his baby pinkish, luscious lips were spooning her erected, sore nipple by cupping the fullness of her breast beneath his palm as her muffled, soreful groans and moans loosened her jaw, unzipping her lips.

"_It's just a mother breastfeeding her child. There's nothing wrong with that._" One of the inner voices echoed in Timothy's mind, resembling an announcement to the entire city to evacuate as soon as possible, due to occurred danger. "_What's wrong with your thoughts, Timothy?_"

In the meanwhile, the once holy priest shook his head, dwelling out of the reverie realm to reemerge in the reality. His lips pursed in childish embarrassment to conceal any wee, tangible hints, in case, if his rare bird caught him having impure thoughts, indicated on his facial features, besides in his abysmal sandstorm of thoughts. Nevertheless, the inescapable mild pinkish powder on his cheeks was amidst the hints of his embarrassment to conceal the tangible evidence of his vivid images, flooding his mind.

"_No, no, don't listen to my twin, who has such disagreements with me! Her breasts are still insatiable even after giving a birth. Allow your imagination to be parallel to the reality!_" Second inner voice vocalized the younger man, bewildering him to bones.

"Anything wrong, Timothy? Huh?" The middle-aged woman successfully snapped him out of his reverie where he was trapped by invincible graphic, explicitly erotic images, whirling and twirling. She casted a scrinitizing squint at his blushed parchment, yet young-looking face, biting her lip. "Ya seemed so distracted as if ya ogled into," Eventually she joined the choir of the flushed face, exhaling sharply. "My breast and our son." Meantime, his lips popped up as if they exploded in sheepishness, couldn't repress a smug, uncontrollably mischievous smirk, kissing his lips.

"I didn't mean to. It's just me sometimes." A bland, blameless excuse was vomited in low voice.

"It's perfectly normal to see a woman nursing her child, Timothy! Is that bothering ya?"

"N-No! Of course, not!"

"Then what is the problem?" In the meantime, the blonde bleated a yelp once she sensed Edward nipping her nipple too firmly between his still growing teeth. "Ouch! Dammit!" She mumbled very softly, meekly, in order to the five-month-old child not hear his mother's cussing.

"He bit you." Meanwhile, the younger man quirked his thick eyebrow puzzly.

"He did. It hurts so much and that's why it's so sore." Stoicness was her face's armor, biting reluctantly, unintentionally her tongue with her anterior teeth to subdue the pain. "I should seriously go to the doctor and to prescribe me a special lostion for that scar."

"The afterbirth scar?"

"Yeah! It doesn't look good on my skin and I know it's slightly late since it has been four months after delivering the baby, but it's better than never."

"Do whatever you think is the best for you but even with scars all over your body, you're still beautiful!" The former priest combed with his comb his messy, scruffy chestnut hair, glancing at the dressing table's mirror by self-consciously paying attention to the manipulated cloning, reflexed on the glass of the mirror.

"Bullshit!" Shortly after the former holy woman finished with feeding her baby son, she placed her son on her lap as he poised, whereas her dexterous, versatile fingers were buttoning back her shirt's buttons promptly. "There's ginormous difference between a twenty-year-old and a fourty-five-year-old woman, Timothy! The younger one is going to look more beautiful with one or even with numerous scars, nevertheless, if it's an older woman, otherwise, she doesn't care anymore if she's still beautiful or with abundance of scars, because it's not part of her care anymore. She doesn't care what the others will say about her physical looks and her fashion style." She puffed uneasily by taking Edward into her arms, getting from the bed and walking away from the room as her forthcoming destination was the kitchen. "Maddie will be the one, who's stunning with scars or not unlike me."

"Maddie is still a child, Judy! I'd never be with her, just because of her youthful beauty." In the interval, the former man of the cloth escorted his love interest as they fled the children's room in no time, descending the stairs. "Maddie is only a friend of ours. Moreover, the age gap between me and Maddie is indisputably big."

"Just admit it she's gorgeous!" At the moment, they set a foot in the kitchen as the Bostonian put in a high chair their son, whilst she strolled up to the refrigerator to pick up the necessary ingredients for a sloppy breakfast.

"She's just pretty and that's all." Timothy's direct response flushed Jude's contracted ribs cage after closing the refrigerator's door as the ingredients laid motionlessly on the countertop. Little did she know the British compatriot's sexual attraction was towards more mature women, who were approximately Jude's age rather than younger ones, who could be much younger sisters of his. Meantime, his mammoth, secure hands stroke delicately his son's soft as satin head, admiring his crispy, sparseness of his golden hair.

"I'm pretty impressed by yar answer, Timothy! I haven't expected so far yar attraction to be towards older women." Devilish wink was shot at him as she turned to him for a split second, whilst making the breakfast. "What makes ya to like them better than the younger ones, who're nubile enough?" Husky, sarcastic giggle unzipped her lips as his chocolate brown irises were darted to his rara avis, spotting each petty detail of hers. "Is it because of their maturity or the respect that oozes of them like aura?" In the meanwhile, the blonde resumed her utterance, chewing on her lip as Timothy ogled his chocolate brown eyes at every wriggling part of her muscles even immobile one. Such as the carved swan-shaped back with her rear, being an ideal complect in one with her lion mane of unkempt, greasy honey tresses, piled up on her upper back as honey autumn, crispy leaves' pile.

"Well," He swallowed hard a solid lump, formed in his throat by clearing his throat afterward. "They're definitely mature as they've already built their own value system with their priorities. They don't seek any attention from the men and boys at all." Stammer curled upon his lips in a choir. "They just want to be respected and love especially if they're lonely. They've a lot of experience as they've fought variety of ordeals through their roller coaster."

"Good points!" The older woman evoked, swaying idly her hips which aroused the former holy man's crotch as it highly affected his male anatomy momentarily. Every motion of her curves was like a somer curse, casted on him as an inevitable spell. "What else?" She insisted more, followed by an abrupt exhale. "What makes ya to like them more than the younger ones? Huh?"

"Because their characters are already developed as in every part of the life you've the chance to develop your character whether for better or worse, depending on your experience and the ordeals you were through." His monologue commenced, listing rationally, philosophically the reasons what made his attraction to the representatives of the opposite sex in their older years being more the center of his attention and interest unlike the younger ones. "The younger ones are nothing compared to them or they're scandalously provocative by judging their youthful beauty and their demand for attention to crawl in some stranger man's bed. The majority of them seek attention and approval physically and their pride lits up as soon as they receive tons of compliments. They don't care how much is your respect for them. All they care is to taunt with their diabolical youthful grace by crawling in the bed sheets with their prey and then dump it as a piece of garbage." Even when the once holy priest emphasized certain words which almost never zinged his lips, flapping its hallowed wings of his confidence, flewing away from his heart as its unholy sheepishness enveloped it, his cheeks were tinted in roseated colorant as sweltering heat crept underneath his facial skin. "They don't know how to flirt. They're like immature plants. They can't touch as you know." He bit his lip. Smug, seductive grin carved the middle-aged mother's rosy-coloured, dry lips, without turning to her former lover as she was beyond flattered by his philosophical response. "And they try to look perfect into every man's eyes and render the other women be jealous of their looks. Belittiling them as if they're nothing than a human waste."

"It makes a fantastic sense what ya have just said by judging how perfect they want to look like those little girls. Mary Eunice was much different than the rest of the youth. She wasn't demanding goddamn attention and her head wasn't brainwashed with the fix idea of seducing boys, ya know!" The vivid memories of her once favorite young nun plagued her cells and mind as crystal, salty tears sprung up into her frail eyelids, verging to pour down her cheeks at the thought of her.

"She was such a precious and taintless soul. She was much different than the other girls for sure! I can see how much did you love and appreciate her purity. It was such a shame the demon didn't leave her body earlier so that to bring her with us at this house earlier."

"It was even shame, who threw her from high. Isn't it ironic, huh?"

"Jude, not again with these bickers! I'm done with this. She insisted to release her and she's too weak to combat with the trials."

"No matter what she said or what she exactly wanted, she was like my daughter figure, if ya don't get it!" Grunt was heaved from her throat, constricting her jaw line. "It's unbelievably insane all that!"

"So as I prayed my heart for her every day after the death took away 2 souls. The devil's and her pure real Mary Eunice's." Even when Timothy felt hopeless to win an argument against his rara avis by being consoled when he lowered his hand from the young boy's head down to his cheek, caressing the already formed tiny dimples, Edward Ralph was his last hope to find comfort. Optimism and realism cusped in his honeyed voice, glimpsing at the wall clock, scanning it immediately the time as it read approximately "9:30am" in the morning. He leant down to peppered his son's cheeks with affectionate, feather kisses, grazing them with his pale-pinkish, soft as cream lips. "But you don't have any clue what she did to me."

"Mary Eunice?" Wry, husky snicker wasn't underestimated by the former holy woman as she awaited impatiently to serve the breakfast in the plates and settle them on the kitchen table. "Think twice before spilling it out, Timothy! The April Fools' day is coming soon and if yar about to come out with something creatively hilarious, then ya have yar chance then."

"It's not a joke. Don't be childish! You have to listen to me!" Suddenly his decibels mellowed from nonchalant up to rueful as melancholic tinges dappled his caution, whereas the bittersweet, crystal tears lightly stained the older woman's porcelain, yet young-looking complexion. "When the devil was living still inside her, I tried to exorcise it by myself and guess what!" Then earned his love interest's incredulous look, tattooed on her tear-stained face, ambling up to her as she didn't move a single muscle. Silence arched between the both adults for a split second as dabbed with a thumb the tears, looking down at her face, admiring her ethereal, ageless grace. "She used an odd spell so that to be laid down on your bed and I was raped then. She did unbelievably insane stuff to me by talking fiendish baloney and robbing me from what I was. She corrupted my virtue though for my luck I gave my virtue to you as a loving woman."

"In brief, she violated ya on my own bed?"

"Yes, I was." The British aristocrat bobbed his head, affirming her rhetoric question through a shamefaced purse, wedging his lips. "Believe me or not, you remember that I asked for your council."

"Yes, I remember perfectly! And I was the one, who I told ya to kill her."

"Exactly! So see, who advised me to get rid off the Satan? I did what you exactly told me, Jude!" His berry-coloured lips produced a tearful, low voice. "You're not only a victim of rape, but I used to be either. What a coincidence!"

"For being raped on the same bed." All of a sudden, the former aspiring Monsignor burst out sobbing uncontrollably as salty, crystal tears tumbled down his well-defined cheeks as if heavy rain poured down, thus soaking everything. "I'm deadly sorry for being so trustless at first when ya told me I'm not the only one, who used to be a rape victim."

"It's alright! I'm fine." His chin perched on the top of her head, snuggling their chests as his both potent, muscular arms were dangled around her spine, whereas hers were thrown around his muscly, broad shoulders. "It's unbelievable what horrendous stuff has befallen both of us on the same bed. Isn't it just ironic?"

"It's definitely ironic. I can't agree more." In the meantime, Jude's sniffle solely subdued in the vacuum. "Do ya know what, Timothy?"

"Hmm?" He thrummed softly through the tears as he blotted the last drying tears with a thumb.

"It's okay to cry. Every human being needs to cry. Even if we, the women are crying more often, the men are allowed to cry too a bit. They aren't just weak or giving up in ease." Meantime, the Bostonian's petite, consoling in a single touch hand rubbed the muscles of Timothy's upper back, in order to alleviate him. "They just have emotions to pour after fighting so much. Or rather, something has screwed them so much." Her hand faintly patted his upper back's muscle, emboldening his sob to subjugated in a jiffy.

"Thank you for your understanding and council, Jude! I couldn't appreciate it more with your strong support!" At the moment, they broke off the hug as they took their time to admire one another's facial features in a slight, benevolently serene smile, sketched across their lips as the breakfast was oblivious for the former holy woman.

"Don't be silly, Tim! Since ya comprehended how my goose was cooked by that prick and ya listened to every fragment of my past, then it means ya can count on me when it comes up to piece of advice or sharing yar story with me!" All of a sudden, the younger man glanced at the scrambled eggs as they beared a semblance as if they were already read to be served in the plates, quirking quizzically his eyebrow which poured confusion into the former nun's face, in fact, his focus was darted to something else. The breakfast.

"I didn't mean to distract you or something, but I think the breakfast is already ready." In the meanwhile, the former licentious jazz nightclub singer drifted her pair of big, feline honey brown eyes to the cooker as the scrambled eggs weren't burnt, causing nervous nip on her bottom lip.

"Oh damn! Yeah, I almost forgot about the eggs." The middle-aged lady mouthed blandly as she stopped the cooker by stirring the eggs once again as vegetables and cheese was adorning them.

"Do you need some help with serving the breakfast on the table?"

"No, thanks! I can do it on my own." Reassuring, strong-willed smile supported her lips as she was serving the scrambled eggs in the plates, whilst Timothy whirled behind her restlessly, due to the fact he wanted to participate in the housework.

"No need to! You've a baby and you deserve rest to do such housework all over here." Meantime, mischievously daredevil, assuring smile danced across his lips by taking the both plates with the scrambled eggs, consequently settling them on the dining table as Edward ogled at them since he longed to behold his parents not just as unwed couple with abundance of disagreements. The sole things the young boy wanted more than anything was Jude and Timothy to be married and achieve family harmony and peace at last.

"Oh God, Monsignor!" The middle-aged mother scoffed, giggling quietly, girlishly like a schoolgirl as she took the silverware spoons by approaching the dining table until the both former members of the clergy seated lastly. "I don't need yar help at all. I've always dealt by myself with the trials in my entire damn life and now yar trying to wipe my ass in the past 5 months since we've situated here."

Even when the older woman was ironic and she thought the former Monsignor's help in the housework wasn't necessary at all, nonetheless she was deeply touched by his interest and his provement in the name of their toxic relationship's development for better. His obvious selflessness, benevolence, concern and love were the crucial symptoms of their relationship ebbing off its toxicity which it possessed before.

"So as you've been through many ordeals, therefore it's high time somebody to overlook your stubbornness and aiding you with what's needed. It's not okay to pressure yourself with anything which can even somebody else take part of and save your efforts and pressure!" In the interim, he scooped his first bite of scrambled eggs with fresh vegetables and cheese, throughout munching them after his utterance, savoring its effortlessly scrumptious masterpiece which Jude has made within a quarter an hour only or even less. "Do you get me?"

"I-I do, but ya know already what I despise more than anything." The blonde evoked out after masticating her first bite from the delicious breakfast, peeping at her ray of sunshine as her smile was blossoming once she met Edward's alleviating, nonchalant face. "To be pitied or someone to put their noses into my business when it at least must concern them. They owe me nothing as so as I to them."

"I know the majority of the mankind don't deserve any quantity of your trust, however, at least trust these from your inner circle who truly deserve it." Suddenly he earned her eagerly attentive look, donning her porcelain, ageless complexion as her lips were sealed with the second bite of the breakfast, lingering on her tongue, seizing her cheeks. "Give them a chance to prove themselves not just as to diminish your pressure and efforts to bang your head for anything that necessitates it, but," He paused as he sipped his glass of fresh, cool water as it gulps manipulated into his throat. "But to deem them as something special or not exactly special. Because it's up to you who's special or not in your life."

The months flew just like swarm of butterflies in the vacuum.

It has been almost a half a year since the accident with the slit throat, which was the essential reason why the former cop, Frank McCann, left Briarcliff as he moved in Vermont for better life and cleansing his whirlpool of thoughts from the sinister memories he had by working in the madhouse, the once possessed juvenile sister of the church and the doctor of science, Dr. Arden.

The former police officer has already purchased a humble, however, conveniently aesthetic and lovely cabin in Vermont's countryside as the rest of his remarkable paraphernalia was already collected by his both bare hands, being part of his recent property. His daughters, Stephanie and Sienna were already grown-up young adults, who were educating themselves in Connecticut's universities for a handful of years. At last but not least, Frank has lost his wife, Aurora, due to a vicious, inept car accident when his daughters were in the beginning of their adolescence.

Even when the middle-aged man was residing the Vermont's countryside, he was still working as a security guard whether first or second shift in a parking lot as his shifts are dependable of his manager by changing per 3 months only. Hence, he was a second shift today by starting his work tonight and finishing it in the wee hours of the morning.

At the moment, the widowed former cop was driving his black cab circa the Vermont's countryside slums, humming a melodious tune to himself as his lips motioned. He swayed his lips when he halted immediately on the red light that the traffic light just kept his wits about controlling his vehicle. The Vermont's slums streets were as unwelcoming as if he was in a third-world-country's neighbourhood, not giving him vibrant and radiant vibes at all. They were flimsier than the shoddiest glass.

In the past 5 months since the former pious members of the clergy's absence, Frank's head was engulfed about his old friend and her love interest especially his former boss. Little did he know what was their recent residence and were they eventually still alive. The only thing Frank knew was that his former boss was pregnant and she was no longer behind Briarcliff's dull, uninviting walls.

Notwithstanding the circumstance that the single father was praying his heart out for Timothy and Judy daily, regardless his piousness and how he sufficiently believed in God. Every morning after waking up, every afternoon and every night before bedtime were the daily episodes, when he recited in a murmur the prayers for his disappeared once favorite woman of the cloth and her boss.

All of a sudden, after driving for a couple of minutes, he found a flower store by parking his car in the only free parking lot alongside the sidewalk. He has visited the same flower store where Judy and Madeleine have worked altogether especially a few times, in order to buy flowers for his daughters' birthdays which have already passed. The times, when the middle-aged man has paid a visit to the flower store, he hasn't seen Judy with exception of her protégé, Madeleine. At last but not least, then he behaved like a mere customer, who was buying Stephanie and Sienna's favorite flowers in an extraordinarily enveloped boquet when they paid a visit to him to see him since they were seeing one another once a month, due to their strenuous studies. Strenous studies, being a major part of their daily schedule and scarcely having any time to do something that they really liked during their leisure time.

Once Frank fled his vehicle by locking it, subsequently he entered inside the flower store by being embraced by the eloquent radio music, the kindhearted Madeleine and the extraordinarily harmonious ambience, scooping him in an invisible firm, affectionate hug.

"_Honey, you do me wrong but still I'm crazy about you__! __Stay away too long and I can't do without you__! __Every chance you get you seem to hurt me more and more__! __But each hurt makes my love stronger than before__I know flowers go through rain__! __But how can love go through pain?__!_" An elating song was playing on the radio, floating in the background like an angelic, cheekily anthem.

"Good day, sir!" The Michiganian greeted with a warm welcome the older man, who stepped inside the store as their stares met temporarily.

"Good day, ma'am!" The former policeman exclaimed affably as then he shifted his azure blue pools to the galore of choice flowers and plants, fogging mistily his vision.

"Do you need some help?" Madeleine inquired caringly as she offered the older man a sympathetic, faint smile, flexing her lips.

"Nah, thank ya! I'll be good."

"O-Okay!" The juvenile blonde replied dryly, sufficiently amiable without showing any tiny signs of vexation, nor hostility when it's comes up to her customers.

As the seconds progressed and the security guard's mind was pondering somewhere in his reverie once he laid his sapphire blue eyes on a Polaroid photograph, earning his attention promptly. In the corner of his eye, he could behold 2 women posing for a photograph with their beaming smiles, sheening upon their faces. A younger and an older ladies like the contrasts between light and dark, life and death, day and night were standing alongside each other.

What Frank could tell was that the Polaroid photo was sonly snapped. Perhaps these weeks or the first days since the flowerstore have legally opened. Deplorable, timid smile meekly brushed across his lipsin the scrutiny, glistening the azurest nuance of his irises. The silence that arched etween the both adults except the playing music in the background was actually baffling the young woman, incapable of overthinking with what she might help the recent client with exception of questioning him.

"_Ain't that peculiar?__A peculiar-arity__, a__in't that peculiar, baby?__Peculiar as can be__! __Oh, you tell me lies that should be obvious to me__! __But I'm so much in love with you, baby, 'till I don't want to see__!_"

"Sistah Jude?" The middle-aged man emitted a muffled stutter, mopping his tongue as it was only audible for him, in order to not being heard by the saleswoman. His heart raced once his oceanic blue irises met his once favorite holy woman, who looked indisputably gorgeous out of her ecclesitiatical, tiresome attires of the church. "Ya aren't a sistah anymore, are ya?" Diversity of questions swarmed his mind like thousand of butterflies, fluttering inside his belly as if he was head over heels in love with Jude, despite realizing the fact it might be former ambitious Monsignor, who has actually rescued her from the madness.

"Is anything wrong, sir? Do you struggle to find the exact flowers which are ya looking for?" All of a sudden, the young lady caught him off guard with her abrupt question, curling her lips demurely, cold-bloodedly.

"N-No, no, no, ma'am! I was just looking at something else." He excused himself.

"Oh! Were you actually looking at the photo on the desk?"

"Yeah, I did!" Meanwhile, Frank bobbed his head meekly in agreement, zipping his lips in a sheepish purse, looking up at the friendly young lady as her glowing hazelish-brown orbs were transfixed on the photograph, handling it to him since it aroused his ginormous interest to survey it though he was bizarrely recognizable. "Is that Sister Jude?"

"It's Judy Martin only. She used to be a nun, yeah!" A pensive, altruistic smile genially constricted her lips into the simper, embellishing her parchment, youthful complexion. Meantime, Frank's calluous fingers gently touched the picture as his forefinger tipped gingerly her beautiful face, memorizing ideally her facial features and every detail, every inch of hers even if they're just friends and co-workers. "She told me a lot of things about ya as ya were such spectacular friends, in her humble opinion."

"_That things you do and say are designed to make me blue__! __It's a doggone shame my love for you makes all your lies seem true__! __But if the truth makes love last longer__! __Why do lies make my love stronger? (stronger, stronger, stronger)__Ain't that peculiar?__Peculiar as can be__!_"

"We're until she just disappeared in the limbo with her favorite priest." The older man cautioned in honeyed voice, without averting his sapphire blue eyes from the photo, admiring the timeless, unspeakably unrecognizable beauty that oozed of his former boss, Sister Jude. Her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses was piled up on her shoulders, framing perfectly her angelic, dazzling with its facial features complexion. The casual, decent garments looked so good on her such as the flannel red polka dot and black pencil skirt authentically hugged her body which has altered after passing the post-pregnancy stage. "By judging the photo, I can seriously tell she's still alive."

"She's alive for sure and the favorite priest you just mentioned is Timothy."

"Ah! I remember that dude." The single father evoked out, gasping in surprising glee, enveloping his frail heart as he raised an arch of his eyebrow, squinting his ocean blue eyes to Madeleine, hardly suppressing the hoarse chuckle, tickling the corners of his mouth. "Wasn't he the one, who impregnated her?"

"It's him and fortunately, they've a son."

"Good for them! Are they married?"

"Oh no!" The Michiganian wished Jude and Timothy were just more than boyfriend and girlfriend, in her humble opinion, nonetheless the crude circustamcens were different otherwise. "But I wish they're."

"Why? They would be a wonderful family with that kid."

"It's their own problem why especially Judy's as they're still working on their toxic relationship, but it's not my business to put my nose in their own business."

"At least, can ya tell me what's yar name since yar good buddies with Judy by judging the photo?"

"I'm Madeleine Willson. I'm from Michigan as my buddies call me on shorter Maddie."

"Oh, it's enormous pleasure to meet ya, Maddie! I'm Frank as I'm from Boston just like Judy." He extended his hand for an affable handshake as a first step farther to find his old friend and her former lover's current residence, in order to reunite again. "Maddie, please, could ya do a favor for me without telling anything to Jude or Tim?"

"_Ain't that peculiar?__A peculiar-arity, hey, hey__! __Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, hey, hey (hey, hey)__! __Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, hey, hey (hey, hey)__! __Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah__! __I cried so much just like a child that's lost its home__!_"

"O-Of course, Frank! What would ya like?"

"To tell me where they live now as I'll buy a boquet of flowers for Jude as a part of our reunion."

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

As a half an hour after Frank had a conversation with the flowerstore saleswoman by purchasing a boquet of 2 white roses, 2 rosy tulips, 2 teal marigolds and 2 crimson heathers, enveloped in ravishing red envelop since he knew it was his former boss's favorite color.

As soon as he drove to the recent residence of the unwed couple, he strongly hoped he would be warmly welcomed whether by Jude or Timothy, himself. Once he parked the vehicle in the grandiose yard, he left the car by locking it up, whereas the boquet of variety of flowers was behind his spine, concealing it, in order to not ruin his surprise for his old friend.

He marched up to the front door by stepping on the porch, then on the threshold by wedging his lips in a reluctant, bashful chest tighetened his seized brittle heart as its vigorously frequent heart beats pulsated into his ears like headphones. His solely free hand managed up to the hardwood front door, tapping on it a few times, keeping its owners' wits about their uninvited guest's presence.

In the meanwhile, light, oddly recognizable footsteps were audible as his lips popped up, ducking humbly his head until the footsteps were beside the door as in a single click the door was already unlocked, throughout being opened as the middle-aged lady was met with her old friend, former employee who tilted his head immediately.

"Oh, Frank! It has been a long time since we've seen each other." Meantime, the former sister of the church threw her arms around him, pressing her chest against his as they absorbed mutual warmness, shutting her eyelids temporarily, melting into the hug.

"Oh, Judy! I'm so relieved yar still alive and ya made it up to here." Deplorably mirthful smiles swayed across their lips as hammocks as if the light summer breeze blew them and played with them. At the moment, his both toned, protective arms were hooked around her upper back as her face was buried in the crook of his neck, trying her best to not inhale the alluring cologne which was frizzled on his neck, grizzly hair and wrists. "I was deadly worried about ya and yar boyfriend. I was praying daily for yar hearts out as if my sixth sense told me ya may not be there anymore."

"Aww, that's so sweet to hear it!" Shortly after they broke off the embrace, they took their time to admire one another's fascinating facial features, highlighted in a genuine bliss. The stray golden, wild curls which framed ideally her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion as the rest of her halo ringlet of sleek gilt tresses were coiffed in a low messy bun. Her caramel brown pools shimmered like constantly twinkling stars in the darkest nocturnal sky of the year as her beaming, reassuringly optimistic smile was a paradise for Frank as if they were on cloud nine. "I prayed my heart out for ya, Frank, ya know! I didn't expect ya so far." In the interval, she guided him to the living room since it was the most appropriate room to welcome guests even if they were unpredictable at all.

"I'm definitely living and breathing, Jude! Especially for yar relief and I've something for ya."

"W-Wha," As the blonde verged to finish her utterance after shutting the front door by locking it in a single click, hence, the middle-aged man handed the exquisite, beautiful boquet with flowers for Jude until dew of crystal, unexplainable bless moistness pooled her eyelids as crystal, rejoicing tears verged to well into her eyes like a fountain when they ambled up to the living room, holding the boquet of flowers which she cordially embraced it as her present. As a part of her reunion with her former employee. Tearful, radiant smile flashed like a jolting bolt upon her face. "Aww, Frank! Ya don't have any idea how bloody happy ya made me instantly. Yar presence. My relief for yar ongoing life. And now this precious boquet." Meanwhile, she stood past the coffee table, nuzzling her nose tip against the nosegay's petals, inhaling inwardly, delicately their wonderful scent. "Mmmm! Their scent is astonishingly glamorous! I truly appreciate it, Frank!"

"Every lovely lady like ya deserves such a boquet! Don't be too modest, dear!" At the moment, the former cop tucked a few stray honey curls behind her ear, fondling genially her scalp as his fingers raked gingerly, featherly her head, admiring the crispy softness of her coiffed low bun. His sapphire blue orbs were fixed on her hazelish-brown ones, locking up into endless trap. "I'm sure they're going to be a great addition to the interior and yar shining smile on yar beautiful face."

"Thank ya very much!" Her modesty was so sweet for the widower as if he just savored the forbidden fruit from the Eden's garden and her beauty was the serpent. She had still platonic feelings for Frank even when his sincerity and courtesity were the keys to her heart, she didn't want to rush up with the stuff between her and her friendship with the former policeman. "I'm going to place them in a vase."

"Of course!" He winked at her once he seated on the leather sofa, reclining comfortably.

"Feel like home, Frank!"

"Thanks! Where's the Daddy of yar sunshine?" The guest winked at her gamely, smug grin kissing his pale-pinkish lips.

"Ah! He's upstairs with Edward and taking a nap." In the interval, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer sighed a sigh of relief, surging its oxygen from the top of her lungs. "Hold on a second, Frank! How did ya find out that I'm living here with Timothy?"

"It'a secret." Husky, mischievous chuckle produced his lips as Judy joined him haphazardly after placing the nosegay in the marble vase. "Ya aren't supposed to know everything at all."

"I bet yar ain't a stalker, Frank, which I strongly believe." When the middle-aged mother fixed the hem of the old, large-sized shirt of her former lover, she turned to Frank for last time, seconds before walking away from the living room, in case to treat the former police officer whether with some food or drink. "Would ya care for a drink or something to eat?"

"Just a nice glass of water only! I don't want anything else, Judy! I promise ya."

"Alright! I'll be right back in a minute." At the moment, the Bostonian fled the living room by heading to her imminent destination. The kitchen.

In a quarter a minute later masculine, light footsteps emanated from the second floor as they cascaded the stairs for the first floor. It was the former aspiring, strong-willed holy man, who cradled into his secure, muscular arms his baby son as he has already took an afternoon nap.

"How did you sleep, my love?" Meanwhile, the British compatriot pinched playfully his son's nose as he cooed a cheerful giggle.

"Dada!"

"Aww, that means you slept well." The younger man jeered as he joined Edward in the giggle's symphony, heading towards the kitchen. "Come on, little lovely angel! Let's check your Mommy."

"Oh hey! Somebody had a calming nap." The older lady evoked out as if the punchline has already been emphasized discreetly, holding a glass of filled fresh, lukewarm water for the security guard.

"Yes, we did with Edward! Aren't you thirsty?" In the meanwhile, he escorted his love interest up to the living room as soon as she was walking away from the kitchen, chewing on her lip.

"Nah! We've a special guest there." Once the couple walked inside the living room, the older man squinted up his azure blue orbs, fueled with bewilderment and agitation interweaving at the former devotional man of the cloth. "It's Frank, my old friend."

"Mama! Dada!" Edward's taunting babble was oblivious for the both parents as the both men gawked at one another with widened eyes.

"T-Timothy?"

"Frank?"

Author's End Note: What are your thoughts on Frank's reborn? What do you think the scene between Timothy and Frank will play in the next chapter? Will be they hostile towards one another or otherwise friendly? Is there a possibility the former man of the cloth to be jealous how Judy is reuniting and befriending with Frank, besides the lovely gesture for giving her a boquet of flowers?


	14. Words' Turn to Buttress

Previously on Wings of Light: 

_"To relax? Don't be ridiculous, Timothy! Edward was left without any supervision as wewere outside all night. Just imagine what mess may have happened to that adorable cherub angel! Through the night especially when we weren't the next room's door to witness the high-pitched cries of hunger or another primary need of his."_

_"At least, he's slightly older than what he used to be the first weeks of his fresh life. He's changing!"_

_"Good boy, Edward! I'm relieved it wasn't toolate when I came here to feed ya. Once again I'm so sorry for leaving ya withoutsupervision since the last night." _

"_He's tooyoung to understand you, stupid! He's just an almost five-month-old 't ya get it?_"

_"I'm pretty impressed by yar answer, Timothy! I haven't expected so far yar attraction to be towards older women. What makes ya to like them better than the younger ones, who're nubile enough? Is it because of their maturity or the respectthat oozes of them like aura?"_

_"Well, they're definitely mature as they've already built their own value system with their priorities. They don't seek any attention from the men and boys at all. They just want to be respected and love especially if they're lonely. They've a lot of experience as they've fought variety of ordeals through their roller coaster."_

_"Exactly! So see, who advised me to get rid off the Satan? I did what you exactly told me, Jude! You're not only a victim of rape, but I used tobe either. What a coincidence!"_

_"For being raped on the same bed. I'm deadly sorry for being so trustless at first when ya told me I'm not the only one, who used to be a rape victim."  
_

_"It's Judy Martin only. She used to be a nun,yeah! She told me a lot of things about ya as ya were such spectacular friends, in her humble opinion."_

_"We're until she just disappeared in the limbo with her favorite priest. By judging the photo, I can seriously tell she's still alive."_

_"Oh, Judy! I'm so relieved yar still alive and ya made it up to here. I was deadly worried about ya and yar boyfriend. I was praying daily foryar hearts out as if my sixth sense told me ya may not be there anymore."_

_"Aww, that's so sweet to hear it! I prayed my heart out for ya, Frank, ya know! I didn't expect ya sofar."  
_

"T-Timothy?"

_"Frank?"_

"Andrea? Andrea?" The Italian compatriot bleated her name, whilst grasping the prison's old, rusty gates in his mammoth, lukewarm hands. The palest chocolate brown that pigmented his irises no longer glistened any vibrant nuances, squinting up at the recently released prisoner from the arrest.

In the meanwhile, the prostitute was recently released from the custody which lasted for no more than a few days only as she was dressed up back in her attires in which she was arrested back earlier this week. Midnight black fishnet tights layering her long as towers, still appealing, lean legs. An extravagant sheerly cropped white top with long sleeves and V neckline, exposing partly her mossy, milky as vanilla bosom armored her torso. Denim, ripped high waist jeans. Her winter black pantaletot. Her dropping, golden ivory earrings, pierced into her earlobes as snakes. Her classy, midnight black stilettos shielded her petite feet, despite the notorious incessant clicks, producing behind the dull jail walls. Her aureate bob hair was unkempt, swathed in greasy layer since the last time she has washed her hair was almost a week ago. A smug, mischievous smirk brushed her lips in the most natural make-up.

"Don't worry about me, Cayden! It will be fine, my pal!" At the moment, she halted as she managed up her elvish, milky as vanilla hand to swat affably his colossal knuckle, darting her midnight black as the death pools, fueled with smugness behind the most somber pigments of the pitch-black, being scarcely translucent with the pupils. "We will see very soon. Whether on a trial if you haven't made it out of this shithole or otherwise kicking some ass together." A sharp exhale was heaved from the top of her brittle lungs as its oxygen surged promptly from her breathing organs as if it was life-saving.

"By kicking those bastards' asses especially that gay pal of Judy, the young blonde and Judy, herself." An excited, wicked grin danced rhythmically across his dry lips, taking Andrea's petite, amusingly warm hand into his larger though through the rusty gates.

"Cayden! We should find somehow to be at peace with them, instead causing turmoil and then a war." Optimism and realism cusped by brewing and cooking inside the middle-aged lady, who opted to find a diplomatic, discreetly peaceful way the both feudening sides to not hop up in a war. "Don't you realize how many human lives it may cost you to get rid off them in the both ways? Diplomatically and undiplomatically?" She resumed her utterance, showing with her both fingers the listed both alternatives, furrowing her thin eyebrows furiously elegant as her smile pettered out upon her yellow, parchment complexion. "Diplomatically, it will cost zero human lives to stop that hostility, whilst undiplomatically," An abrupt, dry cough kittled the corners of her mouth and throat."I don't even want to talk about it. It will cost a few lives at least. You should stop with that violence towards your enemies."

"Look what these 3 fools did to me. And that's why I'm here. In the custody until the fucking trial." The serial killer huffed as his lips dripped downward in a grotesque pout, barely gritting his still firm teeth. "And the years of being chasen by the cops for homicide, sadism, kidnap and rape. I don't give a horseshit if we go through the war phase, because once they're eradicated, Andrea," Husky, eerily ironic chuckle laced his tongue by unzipping his lips. "I won't care about them and their existence anymore. They won't be into my eyes, fogging my mind with passive-aggressive thoughts at least. I'll be finally living my own life as an infamous man in Vermont."

"So what? Somehow you can get your own ass out of here without the authorities to acknowledge your disappearance unless you escape from Vermont by having a fresh start somewhere else."

"Andrea, I'm deadly serious! Yar advises are a total waste of time. It will take me a while until I situate somewhere else with the fresh start. And let's not mention that I will get rid off the faggot, the young blond and the old whore within less than 24 hours but the organization must b," Suddenly, the hooker cut him off curtly as she was beyond livid she isn't capable of aiding the both sides to accomplish diplomacy since her acquaintance's relentless aggression and violence towards his foes.

"Total waste of time? Watch yar foul mouth what says. A lot of valuable human lives are going to be under your knife or whatever you use as a weapon. And do you know why?" The blonde propped on the jail rusty, filthy bar, squinting sardonically her midnight black orbs at him as a lisp touched her lips. Meanwhile, she earned momentarily his piercing, lethal glare, due to her retaliation and the abundance of disagreements when it comes up to war and peace. "Because of your impulse, selfishness and your bloodthirst for revenge for what they did to you."

"That's exactly why I want them all dead as I'll start first with the gay and the dumb young blond, who was something like their buddy." Wrily wicked chuckle dripped from his lips as a catalact of shed fresh blood, clicking his tongue. "They were the first ones to invade my property without my permission. Especially calling the police on me and dragging Judy out of the hellhole how they might call my home sweet home." He mimicked the last three words in his utterance, ducking his head by emitting a half-hearted, cold snicker. "She will watch them suffer and suffer as I'm killing them with my butcher knife in the kitchen. Their fleshes are chopped on thousand of pieces. She will scream in agony. Her boyfriend and her something like daughter-figure aren't going to help her," He paused, clearing his throat reluctantly. "Anymore! And then I'll leave Judy for the end. I'll play songs, based on Timothy and that girl's names, whilst Judy is running like a cuckoo from me into my house when the massacre is beginning. And in her final moments, I'll charge into her and," When the middle-aged man verged to finish his caution as details leaked about his bloodthirsty, sadistically elating massacre that flared his nostrils as if he was on cloud nine along with a smug, gamely heinous smirk flashed as a jolting lighting bolt upon his parchment, scabby complexion.

"No! Stop, Cayden! I really need to leave as something else is awaiting me outside." She glanced over her own shoulder as David, Kathy and Jack were waiting outside for Andrea as their glowing smiles embellished their youthful, pale as ghost complexions. "My family!" Muffled honeyed whisper smeared its venom on her tongue by turning her head quickly to the serial killer, meeting his glare which didn't cause her any wee hints of apprehension. "Cayden, I need to go! We will see one day or very soon again. I hope ya change yar mind as soon as possible and negotiate with them." She squeezed friendly, encouragingly his fist for a split second before walking away from the façade as a rueful smile sheened into his chocolate brown pools.

"Andrea! No!" In the interval, the middle-aged lady's incessant, shrilling stilettos' click blanched with desperation and loneliness the Italian compatriot's face, ducking his head when he felt no longer the feminine warmness, encouragement and platonic serenity encircling him. He was again against the entire world. "Don't leave me here to rot! And there aren't going to be any negotiations with these bastards. Martha, I and Sebby have already decided it!" Grunt was babbled in the vacuum as he sensed misunderstanding was brewing and cooking inside him, whereas his blood vigorously boiled into his veins.

As soon as the blonde fled the old building, consequently David, Kathy and Jack noted a similar feminine figure, approaching them as they couldn't suppress their blooming glowing smiles on their faces like recently thriving flowers in the wee days of springs as their brightest colors beamed under the balmy sunlight.

"Hey, Daddy! Look who's there!" The infants squealed exultantly from the top of their tiny, frail lungs in unison as they scurried up to the petite-framed lady. Their grandmother as well.

"Your Granny Andrea!" The light-haired gentleman couldn't oppress a jubilant snigger, tittering his throat and oral caverens by ambling up to the older woman.

"Granny!"

"Aww, hi, my sweethearts!" When the prostitute imposed the grand stone massive warily, stomping the small, crispily vanilla blanket of snow, sheeting each grand stair, she spread her arms to snake them around her grandchildren's fragile skeletons, pulling them in a warm, affectionate hug. A radiant, rejoicing smile glittered across her lips in the most vibrant pigments, crouching down to scoop Kathy and Jack in the embrace, melting into it. "Granny missed you so much! I swear to God how much I did miss to see these pretty faces with these shining smiles and I'm finally able to see both of you with your Daddy."

"We missed you a lot, Granny! We love you so much!" The little girl whispered softly, molting as chocolate in the hug. Thereafter when she released them from the embrace, throughout her naturally rosy-coloured lips grazed tender, feather kisses on their facial skins as peppering assault on their childishly chubby cheeks.

"I love you too more than anything, my cupcakes!" Then she rose up by throwing her arms around her son-in-law's upper back so that the negligent, heartaching sensation of being a third wheel between his children and mother-in-law to not flood his blizzard of thoughts. "I missed you too, David! You're an amazing father of these spectacular children, ya know!"

"You couldn't be sweeter than your benevolence and platonic love, Andrea! I'm so happy to have you as their grandmother and my mother-in-law." The young man's strong, muscly arms were clasped circa her upper back, kneading gently, lovingly with his fingers her flesh's muscles through her thick winter pantaletot's fabric as her yellow-skinned face was buried in the crook of his neck. "Cassandra is such a disappointment when she talks baloney about you. You're nothing, compared to the descriptions, she makes with hyperbolism."

"I couldn't be more proud of you for ignoring her gibberish and most of all, having a different point of view over the stuff that you truly cherish. I wish she grows up mentally more and understands what pain is to be overlooked, neglected and hated as a mother from your creation, made of flesh and blood."

Eventually David was in his mid 20s with olive-tanned skin tone, followed by light brown hair and amicably-pigmenting in its hues ocean blue pools. His lips were pale-pinkish, nonetheless subtly full. David was a tall man approximately 6'0, whereas his bones weren't flimsy at all. His body structure was leanly muscular though he hadn't six pack abs. At last but not least, he was donned usually in casual attires such as shirts, jeans, slacks and not too formal shoes, besides leather jackets and somewhat blazers. The young man has already finished the science universe and he wasn't tremendously pious, besides his sole family were his parents, Andrea, Cassandra and their amazing children.

Whilst Kathy was a six-year-old girl with double light chestnut pigtails, framing ideally her angelically, pristinely round face as its facial skin was hyperdermically baby fat. Her sapphire blue orbs were filled with sheer innocence, affection and childish warmness. Her fair skin tone highlighted each facial feature of hers as if it was waxen, natural porcelain. At last but not least, she was usually dressed up in pale pink and blue attires, hugging her frail skeleton.

Jack was slightly younger than his sister with a year and a half. His light chestnut hair was capping his head as if it resembled a helmet. Jack possessed pale as snow skin tone, tinting his raw epidermis. His big azure-midnight black pools were glimmering vehemently platonic love, boyish naivety and pristine innocence as if they were angel's eyes.

Once they broke off the embrace, Andrea crouched down to caress with her starkly vaguely, surprisingly warm hands her grandchildren's forming dimples. In the meanwhile, her midnight black eyes, fueled with platonically maternal, sheer love, warmness and innocence were pigmenting in the brightest pigments her irises as if the black was loosing its opacity.

The nostalgia phenomenally hit the middle-aged woman. The hazy memories, that she recalled, Andrea, herself as a young mother of Cassandra, who was scarcely a schooler brought her a heavy rain of translucently crystal, bittersweet tears, rolling on her cheeks as rain drops in the cloudiest day of the year. Nostalgic heartache cracked flimsily and fraily her heart as if her crystal heart was just shattered on millions of pieces at the thought of the good little girl she recalled back in the years. Especially her pure innocence, her lack of ability to grumble for the pettiest thing even to attempt to alienate herself from her own mother. The dew of salty moistness has already deluged Andrea's frequently blinking eyelids without averting them from the children. Her fingers commenced to tremble due to the February's remorseless chilly weather in the afternoon.

What the middle-aged mother longed more than anything was to have a time machine by travelling back in the time especially when her sole daughter was a young girl back in her kindergarten years. Then she could bring back the nostalgic genuine notion of being a mother of a little child and the genuine feeling of the young motherhood, regardless her imperfections. Quiet, rueful sniffles stained her parchment, yet young-looking complexion by seizing her lips in a pensive, sentimental purse.

"Cassandra, I wish you were that young to be as selfless as Kathy and Jack! I miss you very much and I rot for everything you to come back into my life, instead of running away like a wounded hare." The tears dripped as a waterfall of gruesome gore, whilst her inner voices were tantalizing her with the almost impossible reunion of her daughter and Andrea, herself. "You have a wonderful husband by your side that cares not only about your ass and your adorable children, but also about me. The one, who made you of flesh and blood and you have the luck to be that smart, radiant and beautiful girl, who met her own prince." The silence arched between the both adults and children without peeling a single word as the hooker was lost in her train of thoughts and her grandchildren's stares. Dabing with a swan thumb the lake of searing tears.

"Andrea?" All of a sudden, Andrea's son-in-law snapped her out of her pensive realm, subsequently as her mind dwelled out of the reverie realm by inhabiting the crude, cold reality as the sole sound sourcing in the consuming hush was the dancing swarm of translucent, pale snowflakes. "Andrea?" In the meantime, the young man approached his mother-in-law, rubbing gingerly her shoulder to grab her attention.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, David! I didn't mean to be that silent and distracted." A bland, regretful apology carved upon her rosy-coloured, damp lips as her inward sniffles subdued suddenly for her own surprise. She turned abruptly to the man, offering him a benevolent smile, sketching across her face. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"No, no! You seem pretty distracted and silent which scared me a bit." The young man returned her the sympathetic smile, flourishing on his young-looking, porcelain complexion.

"Not at all! I didn't mean to be mean or hypocritical but I wish I could be back in the time." At the moment, David arched an eyebrow quizzically, biting his lip uneasily. "When Cassandra was much younger so that to feel like a mother again. The time, when she was so helpless and I could be her Gurdian Angel rather than being neglected just like now as a human waste." Meanwhile, Andrea heaved a sharp, inescapable exhale from the top of her fragile lungs, looking down at the snowy ground and her stilettos. "It really hurts. She hates me. I love her to death as a mother, a friend and anything platonically." Her yellow front teeth nibbled on the flimsy skin of her bottom, plump lip by scratching distressedly her scalp with her long fingernails which were cheesily messed up.

"You shouldn't blame yourself and of course, you aren't a terrible mother! I think she discreetly loves you, regardless how judgmental and strict she's eventually." He grabbed her by the shoulders as his fingers gently kneaded her dainty shoulders in an alleviating console as their gazes met.

"I doubt it. But can you do a favor for me as we get at your home, whilst Cassandra isn't at home yet?"

"Of course! Anything for you, Andrea!"

"May I phone a friend of mine via your domestic phone?"

"You can, of course! Why are you even asking, dear?" Rhetorically was the posed emphatic question, zinging the young man's lips as they were on their way to David and Cassandra's house which wasn't far away at all.

Silence arched between the both adults as the sole response he received on his question was her anterior teeth chewing on her upper lip demurely as in the corner of his eye he could slyly supervise her body language and facial expressions as the genuine answers, he was looking for her feudening discomfort and familiarity.

"Andrea, you didn't answer my question!" David reminded once again as the announcement tinted ruddily her cheeks as blistering heat crept underneath her facial skin.

"I'd like to call Frank for a few minutes and tell him why I was absent in the last 24 hours."

Once David, Andrea and her grandchildren got back at home from their snow journey, the young man was in the kitchen to make some herbal tea for his mother-in-law as his children are encompassing him with their own toys. In the interval, the middle-aged lady was in the hallway by propping on the dressing table with the old charcoal black phone as one of her hands was occupied with the earpiece, clung it to her ear after dialing Frank's phone number, in order to call him.

What the middle-aged lady could hear through the earpiece as an echo was the pipping sound. Big percentage of her inner voices was persuaded her in an announcement that he might be not at home right now. Or rather, he's so busy with housework or something else at the moment.

"Dammit!" Dissatisfied murmur grunted her throat, clicking her wet tongue by rolling her pair of midnight black irises as a dynamic roller coaster.

As soon as the young man walked away from the kitchen to check on his mother-in-law, all he could behold from her dissastifaction for her call being missed was her soft grunt, dancing on her tongue as its dance was excessively contagious to be hooked for any longer. He raised an arch of his thick eyebrow perplexedly, approaching the blonde.

"Anything wrong, Andrea?" His concerned inquiry caught her off guard, enforcing instantly her gaze to be shot at him as an arrow.

"He isn't answering."

"He might be not at home or he's just too busy to answer any calls at the moment." Meantime, the both adults felt in such an arcane situation especially Andrea. She sensed the notion of a vexed adolescent, whose crush isn't answering right away her phone calls by hiding any tangible evidence of the cheat, whilst David was like the parent or that best friend, who will always support her, regardless the circumstances and everything else. An reassuringly radiant, altruistic smile loomed on his face by clasping his muscular, strong arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the kitchen to drink her tea and feel like home, instead allowing the cauldron of the brewing and cooking impulsive emotions of rage to erupt its venomous liquid. "Come on, Andrea! The tea is ready and I'm sure he is going to answer your call later."

"Let's hope, at least!" The prostitute mumbled ruefully as she docilely permitted her son-in-law to guide her to the kitchen without any pleas and protests, putting back the earpiece to the phone. "And he's a second shift as a parking lot security guard."

"He will since he had noticed a missed phone call from nobody else than his friend."

"Timothy!" In the meantime, the middle-aged mother turned to her former lover with a piercing, admonitory gawk, furrowing her eyebrows by doubling its jeopardy on her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion. "Frank!" Then her complexion softened by turning to Frank, her old friend with a soothingly blameless smile, kissing her lips in a heavenly kiss. "No bickers and I want both of ya to be friendly to each other, no matter how much do you dislike each other!" The couple seated on the leather sofa, whilst Timothy rocked his baby son into his protective, doting arms. What was oblivious for the unwed bond was that Edward's big hazelish-brown orbs, fueled with sheer innocence and unconditional affection were transfixed on the former cop as he sensed the genuine notion of his goodwill, oozing of him as a vibrant aura, crackling of positive vibes in general. His childishly, clumsily inquisitive smile cracked upon his thin lips. In the corner of his eye he could spend less a moment to survey the foreigner without an ado, in his humble opinion.

"Jude, my question is," The British compatriot hemmed's lisp vibrated through his throat as a cold welcome for his voice and vocal stings as his mild hostility with Frank earned momentarily the older adults' silently bewildered gawks, darted to him. "Why he is here and why you gave him the right to step in our property?"

"Look what, Timothy! Even if this property is yars, it's mine and Edward's too and we can accept whether Kit, Mother Claudia or Frank as guests. Even if ya disapprove, I can still invite them in private without yar intervene unless I change my mind so." The former woman of the cloth's baleful caution with her firm Boston accent tingled the former man of the cloth's ears, whilst Frank was witnessing the ordinary family issues or wee brabbles. "Ya have to deal with the circumstances too. And in addition to reassuringly assure ya," All of a sudden, she patted kindly, slyly his muscular, broad shoulder with the palm of her amusingly warm, creamy as baby skin hand by emitting raspy, hospitable chuckle. "And to remind ya, Frank is an old friend and he's always welcome to seek an advice from me or vice versa, besides to set a foot there." Even when the little boy babbled absent-mindedly, Frank focused his gaze at Edward Ralph as his smile flourished as a flower after the heavy rain. "And back to your question, he's here to see me. No more questions and let's not ignore him, okay?"

"Fine!" In the interim, the British compatriot bobbed his head in agreement docilely without peeling a single further word to test the older woman's patience and carry on with the bland blabbels.

"I'm glad I assured ya earlier than never, Tim!" The former pious sister of the church swatted amicably, wrily his shoulder once again, seconds before their stares drifted up to their special guest. Meanwhile, the former police officer sipped his glass of lukewarm, fresh water as its liquid hydrated his organs and body water.

"So how's the life, Jude and Tim?"

"Ah, the life is fine and we're just friends with a baby, which is going to be five-month-old in the end of the month." The Bostonian's immediate reply blossomed photogenetically Frank's blooming content, beaming smile by gazing at the former lovers and their ray of sunshine in the same time, hesitating where rather to transfix his gaze."And this handsomer, of course, is getting bigger with every passing day which is deliriously unbelievable." Then her caramel brown eyes lowered to her love child as her eyes were smiling ethereally radiant as if its entire radiance was cached into them paradoxally. Her elvish, soft hand managed up to pinch playfully, teasingly her son's button nose as his giggle was contagious for the 3 adults, whilst the banal pettifogery between them was oblivious, being casted in the limbo's eternal shadows and darkness without any track of fleeing its limbo realm.

"Perhaps the breast milk makes him chubbier." The security guard said scoffingly as he couldn't oppress the crude hoarse giggle, whereas Judy joined him unlike the former aspiring holy man, who slapped his forehead with his temporarily free hand, rolling his eyes, fakening his glare at Frank.

"For sure! But he's much handsomer with every passing day too, besides the most beautiful cherub angel." In the meanwhile, the middle-aged woman snatched Edward from her love interest's arms by swinging and rocking him gently, lovingly by ducking her head, nuzzling her button nose against his as their gapes linked for a split second. "Isn't that right, my beautiful cherub angel?"

"Mama!" The infant bleated a honeyed, euphoric babble to his mother, melting in the nuzzle as he stretched his tiny arms.

"Aww, yar so...so sweet, Edward Ralph! Ya know that?"

"Frank, that was ridiculous to say it!"

"Timothy, it looks like ya ain't in the jokes right now if yar inner voices are surrounding me as the good fairies!" The older man evoked out in jeering manner as Timothy cracked in a thoughtful, attentive purse his lips. "I didn't doubt ya aren't in mood for jokes when I'm here which is totally alright for me."

"Your return is too sudden for me, Frank! And I know your strong hatred towards me." The younger man emphasized the last words, heaving a sharp, breathless exhale from the top of his brittle lungs as its oxygen seized his ribs cage.

"Since I can see ya got out Edward and Judy out of the hellhole, I can tell," At the moment, the widower paused by gesturing with a hand his pause for a split second, gulping a handful of cool water sips, lacing his tongue and throat. "My hatred towards ya plummeted. Drastically!" The former ambitious Monsignor quirked his eyebrow nonplussed, biting his lip, whilst Judy was cooing and baby talking to Edward.

"How like that? I've always known that you've hated me along with Dr. Arden," All of a sudden, Timothy found himself in an awkward dilemma between being detested and neutral with the former policeman as his heart skipped a sudden beat.

"I've always had bad feelings about both of ya since yar both suspicious but I realize now," The both men swallowed a solid lump, formed in their throats as the single father's fidgety, adroit fingers uneasily were pinching his trousers' fabric. His azure blue irises' pigments tinted abruptly in brightly nuances as if they were all blue instead mingling with the argent. "Yar much better person in its manners and so forth than that Nazi piece of shit. I can see why Judy worships ya!" Meantime, Frank emphasized the last sentence of his exclaimation, emptying his glass of water within a couple of seconds.

"She rather worshipped me a year ago or so unlike now." In the interval, the British aristocrat sighed a dramatic, dry sigh at the thought of the ginormous difference of the past realm and contemporary one as if the worlds were readily different not just in their significant change in their toxic relationship, furthermore his chocolate brown orbs glimpsed at the blissful mother and their little sweet ray of sunshine with a rueful grin, cradling his baby pinkish lips.

"At least, yar having an adorable angel together and yar something like a family. Just three of ya!"

"I wish we could be married or dating at least, but she's been through a lot of ordeals, while I can't force her. Nevertheless, I truly get her why." Suddenly the both men got from their seats as they were about to walk away from the living room since they sensed the personal level of their conversation escalated even peaking to the highest level in their humble opinions. "Just imagine being through a lot of pressure and tribulation not just for days or weeks but for months!

"Hey! Where are ya going?" The blonde halted them with her posed question, chewing on her lower lip, peeping over shoulder to note the both gentlemen are fleeing the living room.

"We're going to smoke outside as we've our own conversation with yar boyfriend." Frank's vehement reply as his aroused enthusiasm to have a conversation in private with the former ambitious priest surprised Jude, factly, Timothy and Frank's aversion fogged her mind for years. Nonetheless, her cheeks sanguinely tinged at the alleged relationship of the former lovers, due to the middle-aged man's words, who deemed them as a couple yet or rather having a secret affair up to nowadays even with a child that's an addition to their arcanely potent bond. An assuringly, gamely cocky grin swayed across his lips as he turned to her to inform her.

The truth eventually was the former police officer insisted perserveringly to talk in person with the former priest, besides to see his old friend with her new platonic family since the middle-aged woman wasn't obligated to eavesdropping each petty detail of their conversation, whether concerning or not concerning her at all.

Frank wasn't just a seeker for the truth and like the old acquaintance they had know for years, further, he yearned to digest more about Judy and Timothy's atmosphere they're living in for the last 5 months after they left the madhouse for better.

Once the both men walked away from the living room by towering the lacquered stairway and step on the balcony as they were all alone, encircled by the typical February afternoon's ambience with its snowy, photogenetically eye-catching landscape, refining the somber pigments in their eyes.

"Tim?"

"Huh? Yes, Frank?" The younger man's tongue crafted the inquiry as pair of chocolate brown irises met azure-blue, bearing a semblance as if the ocean and the woods were linked unrealistically metaphorical. He inhaled the breathtaking, clean snow scent, cleansing his nostrils and lungs as if the infectious aroma of Jude's lion mane, Edward Ralph and his diapers were waffling as Saturn's rings circa his nose.

"Would ya care for a damn nice cigarette, buddy?" In the interim, the security guard yanked a week old cigarette pack of his slacks' pocket along with the lighter, showing them to his old frenemy.

"Sure!"

"Here yar, Tim!" In the meanwhile, Frank lighted up a cigarette, thereafter handing it to the former Monsignor as he light up one more for himself, consequently putting back the lighter and cigarette pack in his slacks' pocket.

"Thank you! I haven't lit any cigarette for months." The younger man's confession made the older one's thick, mildly sparse eyebrow to be quirked in amusement as they took their very first drags at their cigars, throughout muffling puff dim as cannons.

"Oh, Tim! It looks like ya have quitted them or I'm mistaking."

"I just rarely smoke especially when my nerves are about to erupt as volcano of its accumbered stress and tasks."

"I knew it ya haven't quitted them!"

"I'm not considered a smoker at all." Meantime, the former man of the cloth took a second puff at his cigar length, afterwards blowing vague, tar-coloured dim in the air. "How about you too, Frank?"

"I'm smoking twice a day though it wasn't easy for me to diminish the quantity of tobacco daily through the years." Huskily ironic, mirthful chuckle lingered on his tongue by flapping its wings, subsequently flewing his lips. "I can remember I smoked a lot when I lost my wife in a car crash when my daughters were so young. To suppress the pain and the grief which were brewing and cooking inside me as a cauldron of toxic soup."

"Oh! I'm so sorry to hear that you lost your wife a long time ago. I bet she was a wonderful woman." Timothy's tongue almost crafted a sheepish, rueful mumble due to Aurora's loss.

"She wasn't just a wonderful woman. She was a gem, Tim! Trust me!" Meanwhile, the former police officer took another drag at his cigar after clearing his throat. "She adored the girls so much as if they weren't just her daughters. They were like her best friends as Stephanie was taught by Aurora how to sew on her own, although her very young, fragile age, while Sienna was taught by her how to bake her own caramel scones." His mouth couldn't fiddle its salivas at the thought of the caramel scones which Aurora and Sienna were baking. His heart molted and ached in the same time as if the heartbreak and the heartwarming musions were detrimentally absenting him.

"They were definitely authentic cooks in the kitchen." The British compatriot commented as if he was pretty impressed by Frank's daughters being taught at such crafts when they were kindergarteners, his solely free colossal, pristinely creamy hand cooled by its chilly wind and snowy weather pawing the balcony's ledge after he mopped up with his hand the blanketing snow. "Judy is an authentic cook too."

"For sure! These women are always kicking ass in the kitchen with their scrumptious meals and baked sweets."

"That's absolutely true about Jude!"

"And about my daughters and Aurora too, fella!" In the meantime, the security guard patted amiably, faintly Timothy's broad, muscly shoulder with the palm of his hand, chuckling along in a symphony as the richness of their vocal stings accentuated on their chuckles."But let's move on something more serious and not talking about my precious angel, who's currently watching at me, waving at me with a shining smile on her sheerly angelic face."

"Alright!" At the moment, Frank's hand rubbed Timothy's shoulder as his fingers kneaded his shirt's fabric, swallowing blamelessly hard. "What do you want exactly to talk about right now?"

"I don't want to sound like a detective or Bostonian's Sherlock, but my curiosity is encumbering me as much as the others." The widower heaved a sharp exhale from the top of his lungs as its invisible oxygen surged from his breathing organs pronto. His front teeth nibbled on the chapped lower lip loathly. "What chimed ya to get Judy and Edward out of Briarcliff by residing in a different city?"

Silence arched between the both men for a split second as the British aristocrat opted to sort his mind to leak the most rational, sincerest response to the posed question, contemplating glassily from high the trees, bushes and flowerbeds sheeted in snow. Vaguely pensive smile thrived on his youthful, parchment complexion at the thought of his wise decision to rescue not only his rare bird, but also his son from the notorious asylum.

"Why ya seem so smug, Tim?" Frank caught him off guard by turning to him, noting his vaguely pensive, smug smile, smeared across his berry-coloured lips.

"Because I made one of the best, most rational decisions in my life and it was exactly almost 5 months ago." At first, the richness of his firm, proud voice tone convinced the former cop how genuinely, murderously smug the younger man is for choosing a much different, better direction not only in his life, but also in Judy and Edward's. Altering significantly his worldview from the bloodthirsty for honor, exalted reputation and respect, self-centered priest into a selfless, mere, loving and caring man with an extra role, naturally granted after his son emerged in this world. Being a father. "Not only I became a father, moreover I got Judy and Edward out of the hellhole. I came to the conclusion a little child especially my rara avis's and mine couldn't be raised in such a place that houses lunatics, reeks of urine, medicaments and human waste! I didn't do it just for myself or for the sake of my inner voices. I did it for Judy and Edward's sakes only. They deserve something better." Again, the former holy man took a drag of his cigarette as its nicotine laced his still firm, ivory teeth, consequently the dim left his lips. "They deserve to be loved as I've choosen for them their freedom to sleep every night in a warm bed instead on the tattered, old, smeared in filth and after thousands of patients being laid on with the time bed. Just imagine what unimaginable discomfort is going to be for them, besides doubling my qualms for being such a fool to be bamboozled by the evil."

"Yar a good person, Tim! I'm glad ya realized what ya have mistaken and overlooked through the months of war between her and ya know who else." Reluctant sigh of relief constricted the middle-aged man's chest. "The good people realize their mistakes by trying to not repeat them all over again and try to carry on in their lives, living for tomorrow and the future. At first, I bet ya know what were my first thoughts on you!"

"I think I do! Despite Judy has a strong like for you too, as you told me you had bad feelings about me and Arden."

"That's what I'm talking about! And go ahead with yar story between both of ya nowadays."

"Urm, she received a Christmas present from me, besides on her birthday which was a month before Christmas," The British compatriot stuttered, pausing to finish the cigar length with its final puff as its nicotine length gapped his pale-pinkish, damp lips until he stubbed it on the ledge, tossing it. "She received a present too. Even when we were hostile towards one another back then, I and she decided our cherub angel to have a Christmas present from both of us with a lot of love. I got a gift from Jude." All of a sudden, the older man's lips snapped in a beatific, pristinely radiant smile, flexing his jaw. "Before Christmas, she and Maddie met one another as they decided to have a business by turning the abandoned one-story cabin in the slums into a flower store. I and Jude invested money in fixing the dilapidating building. It took a while and then their business exploded blowmindingly."

"That's awesome! At least, ya are taking the next steps to come in terms with Jude." As soon as the single father finished with his cigar length, his elbow propped on the ledge, transfixing his ocean blue orbs on the former priest's face as the controversial mix of smugness and wrath were painted as a landscape with totally different types of paints and color hues. "What's wrong, Tim?"

"As I said Jude has been through a lot of trials and that's what tortures me! I really can't put a finger on it."

"Mhm! That's goddamn right." Meantime, the security guard bobbed his head humbly in agreement, looking down at his shuffled feet, subsequently shifting his azure blue irises haphazardly at the former devotional member of the church.

"And it's somewhat my fault why she suffered not back in Briarcliff's days."

"Oh! Did ya hurt her again?"

"No! A suspicious customer, who is known as an infamous serial killer of women, kidnapper, predator Cayden Gray invited her on a first date by giving her a card with his phone number and address and a few days later I found her in helpless condition as I and Maddie found his address in the police station. Even more Cayden's house was encompassed by the cops shortly after coming to the address and rescuing Jude. Her dress was partly torn. She was feeling foul and ashamed." In the interval, the former pious member of the clergy's monologue commenced by attempting to craft the proper words in them just like how happened exactly soon. "Even before their first date by plotting that leery dilemma, I and Madeleine tried our best to warn Judy about his suspiciousness but she refused to listen to us at first. Then she regretted after her goose was cooked by him. It's somewhat my fault and that's why I wasn't capable of stopping her earlier."

"It's not yar fault at all, Tim! Get it ya tried to help her with yar advices."

"I tried but she was so stubborn then."

\- _3 Hours Later_ -

The daylight hours have already ebbed out on the horizon, as a result of the approaching sunset, tinting with pinkish and peach orange nuances the sky. Throughout the jumpcutting to the somber nocturnal sky, tinting with its darkest nuances the foreground and the hive of shimmering palish gilt stars, outnumbering the sole moon, hanging over.

Once Cassandra was back at her home to spend the rest of her leisure time not only by doing daily housework such as cooking, cleaning per a handful of times a week and so forth, but also spending her time with her family, she was hanging her winter coat on the coat hanger as she perfectly recognized the other woman's coat along with her stilettos.

"Goddamn it! Is that whore here?" The young blonde grumbled under her breath, throughout hopping up in fuzzy, convenient slippers, guarding her petite shoes after kicking off her boots. Grotesquely scowling frown carved upon her peach pink painted lips as her mother's voice was sufficiently audible with its richness of its rejoice and tonality.

In the interim, Cassandra ambled up to the kitchen as her midnight black-brownish irises were met not only with her mother's, further with her children's presences as they were playing Candyland.

"It's your turn, Kathy!" The hooker cautioned plainly, emitting a hoarsely cheerful chuckle as her daughter's presence was apparently oblivious for her.

"Don't you ever dare to," Suddenly the juvenile blonde drew her balled fist to throb her mother for interacting with Kathy and Jack until the prostitute dodged the attempted attack by gripping her wrists, interrupting their game. "To talk and see my kids! Whores deserve nothing!" The young lady hissed the grunt, gritting her ivory teeth as the elder blonde turned to her without any hesitance.

"Mom! Leave us to play with Granny." The young brunette clarified persistently as a childishly unimpeachable smile formed on her tiny rosy-coloured lips in a crescent form, flinching at the sudden attempted punch from her mother to her grandmother.

"No! She mustn't stay here and spread like a plague her wanton essence especially into my house."

"You can't do this, because David has already decided I can stay here for a few nights!" All of a sudden, the middle-aged lady retaliated to her daughter wittily, winking gamely at her as she nibbled on the silken skin of her bottom, plumpish lip.

"David doesn't decide entirely if you're going to stay here, twat! I'm also the boss here."

"Hey, hey! Cassandra! No!" Suddenly the young man entered in the kitchen by dangling his muscly, strong arms around his wife's shoulders, dragging her, in order to halt the clash between the both ladies.

"What's your problem, David? We can't allow a whore to stay under this roof especially interacting to our kids." The university student wriggled in her husband's grip though she wasn't capable of attacking him back whether with a slap or a backkick.

"She will stay with us for a few nights since she insists to spend more time with her family rather than being alone into her cottage, if you get it, Cassandra!"

"Alright, kids! I'll be right back as I need a cigarette." The middle-aged woman excused her by taking her old cigarette pack with the lighter, consequently strolling up to the en-suite balcony to spend a handful of minutes smoking by chilling her nerves after the attempted punch from the young lady to contact her skin. In the meanwhile, the children fled the kitchen by going in their room, evading the drama scene between their parents.

"No and no! A few nights won't be a few nights. It's going to be tomorrow when her ass is going to be kicked out of there."

"Don't make it hard for me, honey! She's your mother and the grandchildren love her more than you can imagine."

"So as you can imagine my skepticism to that bitch to change for better." Certainly clear, wry snicker vaporized as mist fog. Cockily aggressive grin bared her teeth attempting to slap David after her frail skeleton was released from his grip, although he grabbed her by the wrists, subjugating the physical attack from his wife. "Have you lost your mind to keep a whore inside this property?"

"I haven't unlike you! You need to be assured she isn't a danger to our family especially to the kids." He grasped her wrists to oppress any kind of a physical assault from the young lady, casting a piercing, strong-willed glare at her, convincing her to abstain from any kind of harm whether to Andrea, the children or him. "First and foremost, Andrea isn't a whore or even if she is working a notorious job, she's your mother and the grandmother of these little sweet cherub angels! Second, she can always work something or I can hire her via my friends to work something perfectly normal as it's up to her what she exactly wants to work. Third, if you ever dare to mess with mine and Andrea's lives, I'm planning to divorce you as the kids will be with me and Andrea can see them anytime unlike you. You can see them twice a month or at least, once a week, in the law's humble opinion!" Meanwhile, the young man yapped a baleful caution as Cassandra's anterior ivory teeth megawattly chewed on her upper lip, shrieking inwardly in pain due to the grasp of his mammoth, robust hands.

"Don't you ever dare to divorce me, because of this hussy to teach Kathy and Jack on immoral things! Once a hussy, always a hussy is my piece of advice for such a jackass like her! She will never change for better and she will be always a hussy into the people's eyes!" Even when the prostitute wasn't in the kitchen, her daughter's blood vigorously boiled into her veins yet as its incessant apocalyptic eruption was affecting her epidermis and nerves. Immense, aflaming fury and vexation were brewing and cooking inside the juvenile mother's figure.

"Guess what, Cassandra! I'm done with your bullshit as we're up to here with the scandals tonight." As soon as David's grasp released the young blonde's wrists, she heaved a sigh, afterwards a jaded exhale, flushing her chest. "Andrea is going to stay here even without your consent. You have to deal with it and the end of the story!"

Once the baked caramel potatoes with roasted chicken were already zapped in the oven, the entire family and their special guest Frank have already seated on the kitchen table as Frank and Judy seated alongside each other, whilst Timothy was sitting against his former lover. At the moment, Edward was sitting in his high chair as his huge hazelish-brown orbs were fixed on the 3 adults, relishing the family ambience since the ruscus and disagreements weren't whirling its disastrous, disquieting whirlpool circa them.

"Mmm, these caramel potatoes," After munching a handful of caramel potatoes that molted the former police officer's mouth with its scrumptious favor as he shut his eyelids temporarily, relishing its scrumptious chunks fortifying his tongue and oral caverns. "Are incredibly addictive in its taste, Judy!"

"Thanks, Frank! That's so kind of ya along with the boquet of flowers!"

"No need to thank me!" The middle-aged man bobbed his head in honored manner as he sipped his glass of lukewarm, fresh water, hydrating his brittle skeleton. "And let's not forget Timothy was goddamn right about yar blowminding skills in the kitchen!"

"That's indeed true, Frank! I have never met a woman or anybody else who can cook as astonishingly good as her." Beaming, joyous smile flashed upon their faces as they were still masticating, cherishing the dinner's ambience, amalgate with mouth-watering meal and peace. No brawls. No yellings. No scandals. No disagreements. Only sheening smiles, glinting eyes as if they're in seventh heaven, their lips producing peckish slurpings and satisfied belches boated in the kitchen's background. Nothing else.

"I'm honored to be yar favorite cook, boys!" The blonde's pride lit up as a celestially golden orb, holding its most profound secrets behind it. Raspy, smug chuckle tickled the corners of her watered mouth by pronging some roast chicken meat after removing its skin and discarding it in the plate.

"Do ya have some kind of secrets that are the main reason why your meals rock, Judy?" The security guard inquired with childish, humongous inquisitiveness, vomited into his inquiry as little did he know what were his old friend's most abysmal, discreet secrets to have knocking-out skills in cooking.

"No! I've just cooked for many years and if it's part of yar passions, therefore ya can always improve yarself by following the better cooks' advices or their platform." The Bostonian started her logical explaination as mild cliché, howsoever, endless wisdom was emphasizing her mastered cooking skills. "Isn't that correct, my lovely cherub angel?" Meantime, she turned to her baby son, pinching playfully with her solely free hand's thumb and forefinger, pressing instantly the red, endangering button of his joyful, childish giggle.

"Ya, Mama!" The young boy babbled the reply as Jude's hand drifted haphazardly from his nose up to his growing, aureate hair by stroking it gently, lovingly, admiring its crispy softness.

"See? Even Edward agreed with me as if you've any enthusiasm in anything such as cooking, drawing, swimming or so forth, you can always practice it as your own hobby." A quiet, feather exhale contracted lightly her ribs cage as its oxygen dwelled out from her lungs. "It doesn't hurt even to practice it daily for a few minutes or a quarter an hour at least. It's part of yar progress of yar improvement by building its basic level and then building it up until ya master it at last."

When the former members of the clergy and the former cop finished with the dinner, subsequently Judy promised her love interest to escort Frank up to his vehicle, whilst Timothy to take care of Edward by bathing him and changing him in convenient pyjamas before bed time.

As Judy and Frank fled the two-story house, stomping the snow carpet outside as their impending destination was the cab, they had a brief conversation shortly before the middle-aged man should be back at work for his night shift.

"So Frank what awaits ya now except night shift on the parking lot?"

"To get back at home, watching the news and probably relax until my night shift is awaiting me on the parking lot again." The widower's response was optimistically nonchalant, contouring his facial features by unlocking his car's door. "What about ya, dear? What do you plan to do tonight?"

"N-Nothing special!" The former woman of the cloth shy stutter aroused Frank's ginormous interest without pettering off his optimism and nonchalance, enveloping his heart, raising an arch of his thick eyebrow quizzically.

"Oh come on, Judy! Ya should be doing something interesting tonight."

"Alright! I will pray before bedtime as I'll take a shower, perhaps lul Edward if he isn't asleep yet and struggling to fall asleep. And I think that's it!" An uneasy nibble of her front teeth on her lower lip taunted the former police officer's sapphire blue pools to coruscate darker, fiendish nuances of her demureness.

"At least, that's something than nothing! Yar so modest."

"It depends!" The former holy woman couldn't suppress a hoarse, half-hearted snicker, scratching her throat as her old friend joined her in the symphony. "Frank!"

"Huh?" In the meanwhile, the security guard scratched with his sufficiently neatly cut fingernails his head, clearing his throat loathly.

"Can you kiss me?"

"Have ya lost yar mind? Tim, yar boyfriend is going to kill me if he finds out I kissed ya." Frank bleated a sharp riposte, rolling his eyes as he didn't take her words seriously at all.

"Shh, shhh, Frank! It's false we're a girlfriend and a boyfriend with Tim, first and foremost! Second, he is with Edward."

"At least, he's going to be bloodily mad at both of us for doing this sooner or later. He will somehow find out!"

"No, he won't! Or if he's, screw it!" The middle-aged mother approached the former policeman as their gap closed as scarcely an inch was their proximity. Muffled warm breath puffed into the former policeman's face. "I just want to feel it. Again!" The former holy man's begging plea pettered out the moral borders of them. Fortunately, they were all alone with their own blizzard of thoughts, prejudices and themselves as well.

"Fine, fine, Judy! We'll do it. Just to tell me how do ya feel it, okay?"

"Mhm!"

"Good!" The last word that his lips peeled before crashing his baby pinkish lips on hers in a hardening, lustful kiss as their eyes fluttered shut as blinds. Their surroundings were already oblivious in the limbo as if nothing else mattered to them as remorses and afflictions, scooping them into their invincible embrace. In the interval, Jude's both petite, amusingly warm hands cupped his cheeks in the palms of her hands, whereas his strong arms encircled her waist in a grip without releasing her. They melted into the kiss momentarily as if the mist ocean has submerged them. The kiss was inescapably delicious for them even if they were just friends and perhaps fooling around. "Mmmmm!" As their kisses grew ferocious, their wet tongues begun its duel against each other until Jude plugged hers into his, deepening into a French one as she dipped her fingertips in his cheeks.

"That was fucking awesome!" Once they broke off the kiss, they withdrew their complexions with a handful of inches, taking their time to admire one another's facial features.

"I can't agree more!" Even when Judy had intensifying, controversial feelings for the former aspiring Monsignor, brewing and cooking inside her as a cauldron, filled with liquid for a love potion, she felt nothing romantic for the former police officer which awkwardly sedated her facial features with vague guilty conscience. "But I don't know. It's kinda confusing, because we're like friends with benefits or just friends trying some stuff together like the youth."

"At least, we aren't fucking each other like rutty buns in a madhouse!" The single father's emphatic, reckless scoff caused embarrassing cackle, brushing Jude's lips.

"Frank! That's damn true!"

"_Now I lay me down to sleep__! __I pray dear Lord that you will keep__ y__our eyes upon this sleeping world_," The British compatriot was on his knees, bowing his head by reciting in a murmur the prayer, zinging his lips in the completely silent dim light room. Meanwhile, his eyelids flapped its muscles and eyelashes by being closed, shielding it from the dim light and causing its pray to be more efficiently effective. "_Every little boy and girl__! __Bless the children far away__! __The ones who don't know how to pray__,_" All of a sudden, the former sister of the church snapped him out of the pray as the notoriously creaky bedroom door opened as she was back from the kitchen to drink a glass of water before bedtime and after taking a hot, streamy bath.

"Oh, you're praying!" The older woman emphasized, nibbling on the glossy skin of her bottom rosy-coloured, damp lip as Timothy instantly got from the ground and turned to his former lover unhesitantly, wedging his lips in a pensive, reluctant purse. "What a relief it's high time to crawl in the bed after this long Sunday as if it felt like an eternity!" A smugly haughty, fiendishly incessant smirk was kissing her rosy-coloured lips, jeering at the younger man. Her already dryed lion mane of sleek old Hollywood gilt tresses cradled her face in an ideal profile as a mirror cascaded down her upper back as a cloak.

"Yeah and Edward is already asleep as he didn't struggle to fall asleep right away after bathing him and changing into his pajamas." When the former devotional members of the church crawled underneath the warm quilt as the night stands lamps were still turned on, suddenly Timothy spotted hints of adolescent idiocy, contouring his rara avis's facial features in peculiar way as if it was readily different its contour. "What that facial expression on your face, Judy?"

"Ah, nothing! I was just happy to see Frank as I was deadly concerned over his disappearance for months."

"What a good excuse to hide the real reason why your smile is of an idiotic 16 years old girl, who mischievously hides something from her parents!" An abrupt exhale flushed his chest as they both giggled, whilst his colossal, secure hand managed to play with her crispy, wild golden halo ringlet, admiring its softness without averting his chocolate brown irises from her caramel irises. "Do not play the smart silly girl, Jude! It doesn't work to expose the real reason why you're smiling like that." The British aristocrat's tongue crafted a gravely incredulous caution, insisting her mask to fall off her porcelain, still youthful complexion.

"I hope ya don't tell Frank or he's going to rip off my lips on the contrary!"

"Alright, go ahead! I promise I won't tell him."

"We kissed." Her nonchalant, careless confession wiped off the mischievous, prying smile, dancing across the former priest's face. His heart raced promptly as if he almost forgot his heart was hammering into his ribs cage. "And that's all!"

"Did he insist?"

"No, I just wanted to feel something but guess what," The sudden pause perplexed him with a chilly silence for a split second when she cleared her throat, whilst his fingers were raking, combing and twirling her aureate curls of the golden, blooming gardeneria. "I didn't feel it the same way with him. It was so platonic but the spell isn't potent enough to bewitch it by turning it in more than just platonic."

"Probably because you're having as strong feelings for him as just friends." The former Monsignor evoked out wisely as his lips popped up.

"It's true and I feel like he will be always my loyal, true friend while for ya," Suddenly she ducked her head sheepishly, couldn't help but chuckle raspily. "I don't know! It's not just as friends anymore."

"What do you want to tell me with this?"

"My feelings for you aren't just the same as with Frank's. There's a big difference for sure!"

"Do not overwhelm yourself with such dilemma between feelings and friends and partners!" In the interim, his only free hand's fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head to meet his piercing gaze, his chocolate brown orbs staring right at her soul. "Just feel like what's natural for you, Jude! And don't let the fear to consume you!"

"I-I won't allow it. It's just so confusing sometimes." A hesitant, crystal tear dripped from her eye as it slowly gushed down her cheek as Timothy catched it with a thumb. "Confusing me with that must I do what the instincts and inner voices are telling me to do especially to the person, who did everything for me. Or otherwise, just wait patiently and patiently," The blonde lowered her velvety, desperately indecisive voice. "The shadows and the demons haunting me by watching in the corner how I suffer bittersweetly dithering between being mysterious or honest with what I exactly feel at the moment."

"Don't be too fearful of what you feel and feel free to share it!" Muffled, soothing whisper audibly puffed into the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's sensitive, small ears. His pristine, potent fingers tucked a few stray strands behind her ear, thereafter caressing delicately the softness of her long hair.

"Urm, ya did everything for me to recover from the severe medicaments with which they were doping me like a dog and I couldn't even be on my feet as the asylum's medicine that the patients are usually ensured are supposed to heal the mental illness of their," Meantime, the younger man nodded his head in agreement, attentively listening to his love interest as if her words were imprinting in his train of thoughts. "It's true! They did nothing to heal as much as the hypocritical, pretty lies of the patriarchy with reassuring the general population, transforming them into religious puppets. Thanks to ya, Timothy, we have a spectacular child even if I thought I was infertile and empty as a barren! For these 4 or rather 5 months, I figured out, ya did everything for me and I was too blinded by the past and the mistakes ya did," Her satin, milky as vanilla arms snaked around his shoulder, being clung to him to snuggle and absorb mutual body warmness due to the relentlessly chilly February nights. "Ya got me out of the hellhole! Ya gave me a home. I have a nice job and I've made at least one true friendship. Cayden is in jail or he will soon face the trial. He will be gone soon for the rest of his life, not seeing the light and the freedom which he once was granted as a God blessing."

"I-It's too true to hear all this right now. Am I dreaming?"

"Of course, ya aren't dreaming, Timothy!" Her tired honey brown pools were darted to his chocolate brown as the warmest honey and chocolate were linked altogether in the constant, spellbinding ogle. "The words are real. What ya did for me is real! It's the reality and the gratitude I owe ya for everything, because I've everything," In the meantime, the middle-aged lady bit her lip for a short pause. "I've everything that makes me happy and grateful for what I've never had befar. In the beginning, I was thinking everything was a dream but I'm realizing lately it's not just a dream. I'm somewhere in a similar place like heaven. My new home. Home sweet home!"

"I'm content at least, it's not just a dream encircling us in a completely different realm! Full of pretty lies, enveloping and concealing the tangible truth! And there's something one missing for your ultimate happiness."

"W-What do you mean with this?"

"You need love. To being told you're loved and you're tremendously special person. Not just with words but by giving proof with your presence is altering the atmosphere here and there. Everything is much different here! In our house, I mean." His pale-pinkish, damp lips grazed her forehead with a tender, feather kiss as she molted in it, muffling a faint, satisfied moan. "The house is all yours too if something happens to me one day. Somehow! I trust you with my life to protect it at any cost with Edward if I'm gone forever. Everything is changed and it's for better. The ambience is warmwelcoming, cosy and it just feels like home not only with me, but mostly with," The former pious man of the cloth took a deep breath as his warm breath barely brushed the blonde's pale face as her cheeks were immediately tinted pinkishly as a blooming rose. "Edward and you! This house needs both of you except me. You're the woman, who loves to cook, clean, take care of everything which is associated with our home. It's the only place where you're fully welcome with my birth home in England."

"I'm very honored to hear this! But I've everything that makes me happy and for which I'm indeed thankful."

"You don't understand what else is missing for your genuine, entire happiness! No man has encouraged you. No man has loved you as much as I do. No man has given you a real home, where your true self is exposed. All bare and clean!" Her jaw cradled into his fingers without peeling a single word, in order to interrupt and cut him off curtly, brashly. "The men could have brought you tons of flower boquets or a few ones, at least, but they can't replace with the love you frankly deserve unlike the respect they have for you. I'm afraid nobody is capable of loving you."

Temporal silence consumed the bedroom under the night stand lamps' dim lights, dimly gleaming their complexions.

"It's good to be wise, however, it's wonderful the feeling to love and being loved, although it's genially scintillating effect it has on yar rationality." Jude cautioned a mumble, pressing her lips in the reply. "It mutes yar thoughts as if everything perfect seems about this person yar madly in love with."

"But guess the only man who's capable of loving you and would beat the shit out of anybody who's trying to ruin you!" His fingers traced her well-defined cheekbone.

Meanwhile, her eyelids fluttered clutch shut, perching her chin on his bare, muscly shoulder as the satin softness of his flesh contacted her jawline as if a stray kitten has fallen asleep on his savior's shoulder.

"I love you, rare bird!" Her silence was ambiguously interpreteting the three sweet words that the Bostonian longed more than anything to hear, falling asleep sweetly into their own warm hug, light snores hardly tickling his skin. "I'm so lucky to have you and finally my courage plucked up to tell you my enormous love for you!" The numerous encumbering ounce which was recently lifted off his shoulders no longer hurt Timothy. It relieved him how his courage could prove not only to Jude, furthermore to himself what he's capable of and escaping its silence that encircled him for months, muting his courage to utter it without any hesitancy. Just clearly and directly. Without any fears. Without any animuses. Sometimes the truth wasn't painful at all. It was just the abstaination that's more sorely painful than the revelations especially the sincere ones. "Sleep well, my Sunshine!" He turned off the lamps on the both night stands, quickly adjusting his position without turning his back and snuggling gently, dotingly in the former nun's embrace for the rest of the night.

Author's Note: Don't be bamboozled and thinking the romance is already here! It's just the beginning of the romance to expose its true colors of their bond.

What are your thoughts on Frank's visit in Jude and Timothy's home? And did the former cop affect his friendship with Jude, besides in general the controversially arcane relationship between the former members of the church? Do you think Jude and Frank's kiss was romantic, in order to cause Timothy's tremendous jealousy or otherwise it wasn't that special at all? What do you expect more in the new chapter?

I hope you liked and enjoyed the longest chapter I've ever written with slightly over 11000 words.


	15. Consequences

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Andrea, I'm deadly serious! Yar advises are a total waste of time. It will take me a while until I situate somewhere else with the fresh start. And let's not mention that I will get rid off the faggot, the young blond and the old whore within less than 24 hours but the organization must b,"_  


_"Total waste of time? Watch yar foul mouth what says. A lot of valuable human lives are going to be under your knife or whatever you use as a weapon. And do you know why? Because of your impulse, selfishness and your bloodthirst for revenge for what they did to you."_

_"Cassandra, I wish you were that young to be as selfless as Kathy and Jack! I miss you very much and I rot for everything you to come back into my life, instead of running away like a wounded hare. You have a wonderful husband by your side that cares not only about your ass and your adorable children, but also about me. The one, who made you of flesh and blood and you have the luck to be that smart, radiant and beautiful girl, who met her own prince."_

_"Andrea? Andrea?"_

_"Anything wrong, Andrea?"_

_"He isn't answering."_

_"Your return is too sudden for me, Frank! And I know your strong hatred towards me."_

_"Since I can see ya got out Edward and Judy out of the hellhole, I can tell my hatred towards ya plummeted. Drastically!"_

_"Oh, Tim! It looks like ya have quitted them or I'm mistaking."_

_"I just rarely smoke especially when my nerves are about to erupt as volcano of its accumbered stress and tasks."_

_"Don't you ever dare to... to talk and see my kids! Whores deserve nothing!"_

_"Mom! Leave us to play with Granny."_

_"I'm honored to be yar favorite cook, boys!"_

_"Do ya have some kind of secrets that are the main reason why your meals rock, Judy?"  
_

_"Can you kiss me?"_

_"Have ya lost yar mind? Tim, yar boyfriend is going to kill me if he finds out I kissed ya."_

_"What do you want to tell me with this?"_

_"My feelings for you aren't just the same as with Frank's. There's a big difference for sure!"_

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _7th February, 1966_ -

When the widower finished with his night shift as a security guard in the parking lot, he got back at home by driving his vehicle, humming inwardly whilst listening to the radio music, floating in the background. The car wheels glided through the cleaned paths, whilst the driven snow from the both sides encircled him as vicious, monumental guards of a divine, majestic portal, leading to somewhere else. Somewhere unknown. Somewhere arcane. Somewhere supernatural. Somewhere magical. Somewhere out of the real world.

"_It's not unusual to be mad with anyone__! __It's not unusual to be sad with anyone__! __But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime__! __It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you__!_" Tom Jones's song It's Not Unusual was currently playing on the radio, whilst the former cop stopped on a red light, swaying his hips and thrumming melodically to himself as his baby-pinkish, soft as satin lips.

"It's not unusual to be mad with anyone!" Frank was singing to himself, relishing the loneliness when he was able to sing to himself even when he wasn't talented in singing unlike Jude. "It's not unusual to be sad with anyone! But if I ever find that you've changed at anytime!" The dim sun gleamed with its sun light, bathing everything below with its palish saturating light, attempting to melt the February's snow. "It's not unusual to find out I'm in love with you!" As the song's instrumental faded out in the background, whereas Frank was whistling quietly, all of a sudden, the radio news began when the traffic light changed chromatically from red to green within a split second.

"_The last afternoon, the infamous prostitute, Andrea Drake was released from the custody since she was arrested for prostitution and she wasn't charged with any grave crimes for her long-time career as a hooker._" The radio news' hoster declaimed half-heartedly as its voice was feminine. "_But Cayden Gray, the notorious serial killer of Vermont, known for kidnapping, raping and killing women even skinning their corpses and collecting their organs is still in the custody for more than 24 hours is going to be released shortly before the trial, besides the hearing is going to take its place in the next 4 days._"

"Oh Jeez! I hope Andrea is alright unlike that bastard is going to suffer even more before the trial for doing this to Jude." The middle-aged man muttered under his breath, listening attentively the radio news in the wee hours of the Monday morning.

"_And that's not only the horrors of Vermont, lurking with the most notorious serial killer, who's being searched by the authorities for years with struggling, moreover the last victim of his kidnap and attempted rape was a middle-aged woman, whose name is going to be anonymous since her friends insist and she's too ashamed even to think of the accident._"

As soon as the single father parked his cab in the parking lot of the grand yard of his property, he turned off the radio as the car engine halted to buzz monotonously by fleeing the vehicle, subsequently locking it and marching up to the front door by towering the threshold stone stairs warily since they were sheeted with tiny snow carpet.

"Oh goddamn radio news! What a relief that asshole is in the custody yet without even thinking of to set a foot outside the jail's darkness." Meanwhile, Frank delved in his slacks' deep pocket for the keys, muffling a puff by zinging his dry, pale-pinkish lips. His tongue twirled outside as its tip scarcely brushed his upper lip including his mild facial hair, formed above his upper lips. "Finally Vermont is going to be a peaceful sanctuary unlike to worry about that jackass roaming freely as each Vermontian has a sixth sense." Once he snatched the keys by unlocking the front door, thereafter in a single click the front door was opened by setting a foot inside the hall shutting the door behind immediately and kicking off his shoes.

When his sapphire blue orbs as grizzle pigments pigmented his orbs more than sapphire by landing them on the domestic phone, noting he has missed a call by biting his lip reluctantly, pensively. Little did he know who had phoned him the day before, during his absence and being a special guest in his old friends' two-story house.

"Who it could be?" Muffled whisper touched his lips gently by approaching the phone, sitting motionlessly on the dressing table until he yanked the earpiece by dialing the same number from which he missed the car yesterday. "H-Hello?" Somebody responded to his phone call for his surprise especially in six o'clock in the morning.

"Oh hi, Frank!" The hooker answered his phone call as her velvety voice echoed through the earpiece, jingling ambiguous tunes. On one hand, nostalgia since they haven't seen one another and heard from one another for days. On other hand, vague, sardonic irritation, vomited her open politeness. "Can you guess from whom you had a missing call yesterday?" Huh?" Sardonic chuckle escaped her lips as the single father's head ducked, propping his temple with a couple of fingers, whilst the elbow rested on the scarcely carpeted in a generous layer of dust dressing table, tickling gently with its natural dust.

"Oh! Isn't that from ya, Andrea?"

"It's."

"I'm so sorry but I wasn't at home the last afternoon. I was in my old friends' house by seeing them a few years later."

"What a good excuse to miss a phone call from your friend!" Wry, husky giggle scratched her tongue as it almost didn't peter out in the thin air. "Anyway how are you?" Then she mooted another topic without even questioning his absence anymore after spitting out the sardonic comment of hers.

"I'm good, Andrea! Thanks! What about ya too? Are ya feeling much better after the custody?" The former police officer wiped off with his solely free hand's amusingly warm, calluous palm the steaky layer of perspiration, smeared on his forehead as cake's glaze.

"That's great. I'm feeling much better as I'm with my grandchildren and David." Elation knotted her words by taking a deep breath for a split second, whereas the former cop's lips curled in a thoughtful, idle purse. "Hold on a second, you know via the radio news that I'm released from the custody?"

"Yeah, I do! I was so relieved when I heard ya were released and Cayden is still under arrest for his atrocities even trying to rape one of my old friends and locking her up in the attic after sedating her." Vast disgust and loath crafted his last sentence, leaking his genuinely impression of what Jude and Timothy told him about the notorious Vermont serial killer that lurked for years without even being caught by the authorities once. Grotesque frown formed on his pale-pinkish lips after popping them up. His heart vehemently hammered in his chest by putting himself in Jude's shoes as if the protagonist was Frank as Jude by being sedated with the pasta and wine, thereafter being locked up relentlessly, inhumanely in the attic without any source of light and once fleeing its trap an attempted rape being the impending tribulation, blocking his path to the escape. "But thank God, that bastard is licking the filthiness of his prison cell's furniture with his tongue and rotting like a half-dead rat."

"Oh, I knew it you're well-informed! I tried to persuade Cayden with diplomacy will accomplish peace with the victim's friends instead of plotting their homicide." Kathy and Jack's mirthful squeals floated in the background by mingling with Andrea's voice as the children eagerly anticipated their grandmother to seat them on the kitchen table for breakfast, while David was brewing coffee for him and his mother-in-law.

"Aren't ya talking about Timothy and Madeleine, besides Jude?"

"I know so far, he called the younger woman a dumb young blond, while Jude's friend a poof or gay. It was in front of me. Not in front of them."

"Ah, I see! That's not very nice of him!" Frank emphasized, slapping his forehead with the palm of his colossal, dryly soft hand. "It's about them since yar mentioning how that asshole called them behind their backs."

"But let's not forget how Cayden called Jude."

"How?" Even the middle-aged man's curiosity was as lethal as cobra's venom, envenoming his brain cells.

"An old whore." Andrea's shame to utter by the way the vicious serial killer addressed the former devotional woman of the cloth nauseated Andrea as if it's nausea genesis flushed her stomach. By the way she uttered the preposterous label, labeled by Cayden, himself.

"I knew it!" The older man squealed in inexorable frustration, slamming with a balled fist the dressing table as its wooden material's gentle brush against his knuckle hyperbolically contrasted the tough slam. "One day, Cayden will see who's an old whore. He's rather an old whore for women by kidnapping, raping and killing them without any mercy even skin their corpses, collecting their organs and," In the meanwhile, a wicked, ironic chuckle escaped the blonde's rosy-coloured, dry lips as her palm slapped playfully her thigh. The slam sound mingled with her rich laugh. "I'm fucking serious, Andrea!"

"I know but your jokes have no borders." The blonde's caution vaguely disappointed him since he opted to be grave without showing any hints of sarcasm, irony even side-splitting exemplars of jokes but his weakness was to spit them out directly as poison which once tugged its serpentine tongue, heaping it for endangerments.  
"Goddamn it! Where we're up to now with our discussion?"

"You said that Cayden will see who's an old whore," The prostitute mumbled the cuss since she wasn't a fan of mentioning words that were addressed to her as incarnation of her true nature. "And let's not forget you said what he does with his victims."

"Oh yeah!" Meantime, the security guard took a deep breath as a short pause before expressing his unconditional disgust, shame and detestation to the infamous serial killer. "Yuck! He's even eating their flesh and prone to cannibalism."

"That's not what Kathy and Jack should listen to once I'm about to have a breakfast with them!" The prostitute's stern, unwelcoming caution jingled a requiem in Frank's ears by biting his lip, whilst Andrea attempted to low her voice decibels since her grandchildren are nearby and whatever her lips produce as a syllable, consequently disputed on the table or being an object of embarrassing comments. "And David too. I mean the father of the kids as they don't want to hear that as if psycho stuff is on my tongue tip only." The blonde scoffed by clamping with a hand her mouth, while being incapable of suppressing the girlish, sardonic giggle.

"Well, my daughters when they used to be teenagers and heard about their mother's decease, don't ya think it was one of the nicest things to hear even being disputed? Huh?"

"No! Of course not, Frank!"

"Ah, but ya said it anyway."

"Hey!" Her austere exclaimation caught him off guard while he was scratching with his short fingernails his head, humming quietly. "And one last thing. It's a warning to your friends." The budded lump in her throat vanished in its swallow, flexing her throat muscles. "Cayden is plotting his escape from the custody and if he's seen nearby or somewhere whether Jude or Madeleine is endangered, they should keep their distances from him. His vengeance is going to be far worse from what he did to your old friend. With the attempted rape, sedating and locking her up in the attic."

"Oh! Phew! This man has big guts to escape from such a miserable place where he exactly belongs for the rest of his misery life!" Meanwhile, the former police officer sighed a sigh of relief half-heartedly by chewing on his lower lip reluctantly. "And such big guts to plan impossible things. Of course, he won't even dare to touch her or Maddie when I mop the floor with his beaten ass!"

"That's the last hope if the diplomacy doesn't work between the both sides."

"Even if ya don't want violence, Andrea, trust me, we will put him in the right track. I promise!"

The wee hours of the morning were embraced by the dim sun's dirspersing saturating sun rays through the widely opened curtains in the bedroom. Pasty, lucid sky with only one, one of a kind, glimmering its golden nuances sun hovered and smiled with the gleaming sunrays at everything below. The two-story mansion. The rich, alabaster snow carpet that carpeted the stark tree branches, the flowerbeds, the roof and everything else that was immobile, incapable of moving a single muscle. The stark, grandiose trees. The Victorian style, ornamentally polished fence and gates, protecting the property from burglars and unwelcomed strangers.

An ordinary Monday morning was rather a nightmare not only for Timothy, furthermore for the former pious sister of the church since they weren't even morning people at all. Even they didn't appreciate the concept of moving any single muscle with exception of dawding to flee the slumbering paradise for everybody as soon as the weariness pinches their muscles and bones or on the contrary, that's another alternative to being found dead after dying in their own sleep. What Jude didn't like in the morning was getting up approximately in six o'clock by having a cup of coffee and afterwards getting back to work, in spite of her passion to work as a saleswoman in a flower store especially with Madeleine.

Despite the platonic circumstances, the both former members of the clergy shared a bed together without being intimate carnally at all.

Their tightly shut eyelids shielded them against the dim sunlight as its sufficiently vivacious light caressed gently their faces and hairs in its warm, comforting invisible sunny hand. Their lips elaborated muffled snores as the warm, morning breath of the former nun ventilated like light, summer breeze the former priest's face.

As soon as Jude came to her senses at last by rubbing with her fragile, petite fists her groggy eyes as if she's recently resurrected, a mere, blatant yawn flexed her lips until her vision wasn't fogged by its mistiness.

Meanwhile, her warm caramel brown with its warmest, most glowing caramel pigment, pigmenting her irises squinted up subtly at Timothy, surveying his handsome facial features when he was profoundly kipping. A relief generously contoured her facial features, sighing quietly as it was solely distinct for her. The relief's symptom was coming to the conclusion that Timothy wasn't awake yet. She really loved it when he was asleep yet. The beauty coma made him look still attractive into her eyes.

"Yar so handsome even when ya sleep. Sleep deeply!" In the meantime, the odd intention of cupping his well-defined cheek in the palm of her amusingly warm, soft just crossed her mind as if a smart ass child plotted to mess up his next door's neighbor with naughty mudding. The timidness of the cupped cheek in the palm of her hand was as ginger as the lack of intentions to wake him up. A beaming, little smile budded across her lips as recently flourished spring flowers, gemmating its fertility on the trees and bushes. "Sleep peacefully! I don't have any intentions of waking you up." At the moment, she peered over his muscly, broad shoulder to read the clock on his side's nightstand, reading it approximately "6:15am" in the morning.

"I really need to get up." Frustrated mutter flexed her jaw by releasing the younger man from her scooped embrace, subsequently wriggling as his hands which once squeezed her mid-back unhesitant, they just slipped when her wriggle efficiently manipulated its muscles. She seated on the edge of the bed by hopping up in convenient, cozy slippers.

A clean, ordinary towel was tossed on her shoulder as she tied up her hair in a high messy bun, in order to not drench any stray strand or rather the mop of strands, framing her porcelain, yet youthful complexion. Her steps up to the bathroom were as silent as an assassin, plotting his next victim's death viciously. Resilence glittered her tiptoeing until she set a foot inside the bathroom by hanging the towel on the door's hook and brushing her teeth by turning the bath's facuet, in order to, fill the bathtub with a streamy, hot water.

The motion of the toothbrush's grasp in her hands, mechanically maneuvering to scrub her front and back teeth within seconds until she turned the sink's faucet with cool water running as its submerged, throughout jabbering the water's gulp, immensing the toothbrush's froth, layering every inch of her ivory, firm teeth. In a few thrown gulps directly in the sink, her teeth were still fresh and clean again by undressing herself, allowing her flesh to breath all over again. Her underwear and old, unworn shirt of the British compatriot as former remarkable attire were hung on the door's hooks, whereas her bare, elvish feet hardly dunk by touching gingerly the streamy, hot liquid, contacting her toes as a final test before her entire body submerged in the bath.

Serenely light, nonchalant smile stretched her jaw in its mimical Bostonian was already in the bath. All naked as a newborn baby or rather, as the sinful, naïve Eve in Eden's garden. All white as the sheer angel or on the contrary, hoary scolecite. All natural since birth. All skin as no garment covered any inch or armored.

The middle-aged lady reclined on the bath, cocking back her head as a muffled, smug moan dripped from her lips as saliva. Her eyelids fluttered closed, relishing the liquid's warmness, encircling her in a genial, fresh hug.

Slough of bubbles overlayed her stark figure

Oblivion of her former lover to endanger her personal space clouded her train of thoughts just a few hours before getting back at work and seeing her protégé Madeleine. Whether issues or embarrassment, they weren't bothering the former pious sister of the church anymore especially when the bath's vaporously balmy water hexed her, sedating each inch of hers. Every brain cell. Every thought. Every prejudice. Every muscle. Every bone.

In the interval, what the former woman of the cloth could hear sufficiently audible for her sensitive ears was the masculine footsteps stomping the bedroom's flooring by ideally recognizing them where was the British compatriot's impending destination after getting from the bed and making it. The children's room or rather, in brief, Edward Ralph's lair.

When Timothy opened gently the children room's door, barely notoriously, shrillingly squaking, his coffee brown orbs landed on the crib, transifixing his acute focus on Edward by making sure he's awake which is highly possible at the moment.

High-pitched, uncontrollable, ablaze cry respired from the top of his tiny, flimsy lungs, taunting his father to approach the cot within moments without an ado.

"Daddy's coming, sunshine!" The British aristocrat's pale-pinkish lips curled in a soothingly, optimistically radiant smile, weighing his parchment, yet young-looking face. Once he stepped beside the cot, his both mammoth, secure hands took the infant in a scooped embrace to rock alleviatingly him, whereas his shrilling cries subdued. "Shhh, shh, sweet baby boy! Daddy's here which means everything is okay."

"Dada!" The infant attempted to manage his wee hand to stroke delicately his father's cheek. His big hazelish-brown pools with its haunting aura transfixed pleadingly at the former priest's softened as a loved, took care of foster puppy. What the former priest could note was the haunting aura as if partly his love interest's stares mirrored with their creation, made of their flesh and blood. Edward was indisputably not only part of his father, furthermore part of his mother either.

"Aww, sweetheart! Aren't you hungry?"

"Ya!" Timothy knew right away his rare bird was in the bathroom even postponing fleeing since she was taking a bath like almost every morning before work.

"I know, lovely cherub angel! But Mommy is in the bathroom and I promise you," As soon as the former devotional member of the clergy left his son's bedroom by rocking him to eschew him to emit another ear-piercing cry or bewail. A handful of fingers pinched his crinkled button nose at the pinch, whereas Timothy cascaded the stairs and heading towards the kitchen to feed his son with breastmilk from the baby bottle, in case, if Jude is absent and she can't feed him exceedingly prompt. "She will be here within a few minutes, while you can be feed directly from the baby bottle, Sunshine!" He emphasized the friendly nickname for Edward by pooling the kettle with fresh, lukewarm water from the turned faucet of the kitchen sink until he placed it on the hot place, whistling inwardly, reassuringly to himself and Edward by turning to him after preparing 2 empty, unused yet plain mugs for hot beverages. "Good boy! Daddy promises to get within a few minutes to check on Mommy, okay?" Meanwhile, the little boy nodded whilst suckling the breastmilk, cached in the baby bottle.

"I wonder if it's a good idea to enter in the bathroom to clean myself or brush my teeth since she should be out eventually." Allegy whispered as he walked away from the kitchen, whereas his forthcoming destination was the en-suite bathroom, linked to their bedroom. "I hope Jude is alright." He bit his lip at the thought of his rara avis once the younger man entered bluntly in the bedroom as he was met with an empty bedroom. Definitely, the former religious sister of the church hasn't even left the bathroom. "Why it takes so long to her to leave the bathroom?" He mustered with her morning baths or hot, relaxing showers though his primary needs were knocking him up, urging him to fulfil them though he would do anything for his right hand. Timothy was totally okay with Jude taking whether morning baths or showers to freshen herself and snug herself, feeling comfortable in her own skin, no matter the signs of the pregnancy and somewhat the unavoidable aging process, affecting her appearance and mentality.

What the former aspiring Monsignor did was waiting patiently in the bedroom by gawking blankly at every corner of the convenient ambience that encircled the room itself. The beginnings of romantic atmosphere was inescapably common even fogging his vision, while sitting on the armchair where a handful of his right hand's clothes proned such as a clean, new pair of sangria red underwear, a jacquard knee length flared pearl white skirt and navy blue cashmere blazer.

Once he peered over his broad, muscly shoulder to notice the pair of sangria red underwear, he swallowed hard, although his other side's blizzard of thoughts dwelled him out of the reality realm. Impure thoughts resurfaced as unbreakable icebergs in the glacial ocean.

What his brain cells crafted were galore of explicitly graphic images where he and Jude were protagonists. Protagonists in variety of erotic genres. Or rather, explicitly graphic images, where the steamy fragments were more luxurious than the sweetest, most sinful savor of liquor.

Their pale, damp lips, yearning for ferocious kiss to brush their lips' skins, hardening its kiss's intension and physical and mental pressure, inebriating them to bones. Their wet tongues dancing against one another in a delicate dance until either of their tongue plugs either of their mouths, deepening into a licentious French kiss. Her porcelain, milky as vanilla skin being donned in the sangria red lingerie, covering her intimate parts during their foreplay or as a part of their episodical seduction before jumping to the blowminding part. Widened ogle, transfixed on her half-stark petite frame, clothed in underwear as her tempting gait makes him even more unnerved, swallowing hard the budded lump, formed in his throat. Her lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilt tresses, piled up on her shoulders as autumn leaves' rich pile framing her parchment, radiant face. She was devilishly stunning. Every stray curly aureate strand, setting her profile in a frame, glew the most vibrant light, glinting the former priest's chestnut brown, deep pools. The fiendishly seductive smile of the succubus, hugging her ravishing red lips, was his Achilles' Heel. The combination of fiendishly seductive smile, sexy sangria red underwear, long wavy, silken golden hair weren't all alone as complect of his dream woman or rather, his rara avis in the real face of her art of flirt and inveiglement. Her caramel brown pools, fueled with immense desire, delirious lust and unconditional love worshipped the eye contact with their linked eyes in unison. She looked even sexier as dominant or perhaps, she was actually the dominant. Only one God knows who's the domineering between the both. His pristine berry-coloured lips craved to capture hers in a loving, afterwards hardeningly lustful kiss. Everlasting savoring the lustful magical potion. Their skins contacting, grinding and rotating each other's hips in a rhythmical choir. Her bare, full breasts pressed to his stark, toned torso whilst riding him. Muffled, delectable moans and groans zinged their lips as zephyr. Warm breaths colliding like stormy waves in the misty nocturnal sea brushed gently their facial skins. Their breaths hitching almost breathlessly from their nostrils and from the top of their lungs. Their hearts' drums vigorously constricted their chests. Their eyelids clutch tightly shut, formed in slits shape, bearing a semblance of scars.

"_What the hell is wrong with you, Timothy? She's just a friend of yours._" An inner voice flooded his mind, all of a sudden, snapping him out of the reverie realm, subsequently inhabiting back the reality realm hesitantly. It felt like a sudden baby kick in a woman's bump, catching her off guard and stopping her breathing for awhile, stunning her to bones. He felt somewhat ready to be not just a mere friend of the Bostonian. In fact, his friendship with Jude is so precious for him. Even more precious than the divine dreams he once chased until his rationality made him to choose a much different direction in his life. That truly mattered to him as much as his intensifying feelings for the former pious member of the church. On other hand, he would be hurt if he violated the blonde's goodwill and privacy if he was the sole one to commit the further step in their relationship. Literally dating each other and getting laid. Timothy was just afraid of hurting her ever again and he had no intentions of repeating all over again the same bland, temerarious mistakes, molding a monotonous rhythm of pressed piano keys. He didn't want haphazardly to change his light into the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's eyes since he gained somewhat her trust and her platonic affection after everything he did for her after Briarcliff's madness where they the least belonged.

Timothy felt like lost or kind of detrimentally melancholic if he loses and don't protect her at any cost. His solemnly, strongly took vow to protect her and keep his promise to not lose her were his very top priorities along with their compact family they shaped as team players including Edward Ralph. He didn't want their family to be separated, nor their friendship to collapse as bricks of a façade which recently were razed to basics.

"Oh Christ! I almost forgot about the coffee." He slapped immediately his forehead for his ignorant oblivion as his baby son was only in the kitchen with the boiling water for brewing black coffee.

Once Timothy fled the bedroom by descending the stairway for the first floor, he headed towards the kitchen to brew the coffee and noticed his son has already left the baby bottle with the quarter of remaining breastmilk, wiping with the back of his tiny hand his milk-stained lips.

"Dada!"

"Aww, cutie pie! I can see you've finished with your breakfast, can't I?" In the interval, whilst the coffee was brewing, the former amibitious holy man strolled up to the high chair to pinch playfully, kindly his cheeks with a handful of fingers as he yelped a babbling chuckle, repeating his babbling nickname for his father.

"Dada!"

"That means you aren't peckish anymore which relieves me."

"Mama!" Suddenly the young boy emphasized the word until an alleviating peck on his cheek alleviated his nerves and his concerns about his absent mother, sensing his father's delicate, long fingers caressing his dimple, resembling as if a mother caressed her newborn's ray of sunshine head.

"Mama is still in the bathroom though it's yet bothering me how she lingers to leave it soon." He turned to glance at the kettle with brewing coffee until it cheeps, keeping his wits about the already brewed caffeine beverage.

Within a few minutes, the former holy woman hasn't even emerged from upstairs yet after Timothy spent some time with his baby son and pouring in the mugs the hot caffeine liquids by turning the sink to water the kettle. His patience commenced to peter out gradually as if its matches' flame verges to be tossed, scorching to edges everything and ashes are the sole ruins left after the scorching destruction. It was already shortly after six and forty-five o'clock in the morning.

When he retowered the stairs and reentered the bedroom by promising his son to be right back within a few moments, a tunable, loud humming emanated from the bathroom, tinting crimsonly his cheeks with sweltering heat, crawling underneath his facial skin. In the meantime, his coffee brown orbs were darted to the bathroom door from where the melodious, silver-tongued humming taunted him as a syren's eloquent, intoxicating song, rippling the decibels guturraly to tempt the naively head over heels in love with the siren, itself, sailors until they approach them blindly and allow them to take control over their expectancies by dragging them from their boats, consequently submerging them in the mist, abysmal seas until they drown as their corpses recklessly swimming.

"Jude, the coffee is ready!" The younger man tiptoed up to the bathroom's door, seizing his lips in a thoughtful purse.

"Just a moment, Timothy!" The silver-tongued, breathtaking thrumming ceased in the vacuum when she replied him dryly, scarcely promising since she lingered to get from the bathtub.

"I'm just saying. May I enter?" Shyness lingered on his tongue as he posed the question.

"Of course, ya can! Is that even a question?" In the meanwhile, her hazelish-brown eyes were transfixed on the ajar opened door that was opening, chewing on her lower lip, subsequently suckling it with her front teeth enticingly, eager to behold his reaction to widen his eyes at the sight of her naked body, baptized in bath's water and bubbles.

As soon as Timothy entered in the bathroom by shutting the door, his chocolate brown irises landed on Judy, biting his lip by flinching when he was met with her starkness, submerged in the bathtub.

"Oh shit! Why did you lie to me?" The former holy man felt meekly tempted by the Succubus. Under her fiendish trap of her seduction. Nonetheless, the sight of her curves was contenting him at least, mildly salivating his mouth as if he's seen the most beautiful woman, in his humble opinion. Or rather, the sexiest woman according to him. His meek, bashful mumble caused the former sister of the church to not oppress irrational, uncontrollable snicker, flushing her chest. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Of course, not!" The older lady winked gamely at him, whereas he quirked his eyebrow quizzically as his heart hammered heavily, restlessly in his chest. "Tim, ya can brush yar teeth even without looking at me."

"How I'm supposed to do this?"

"Just like that. Don't focus on me as if I'm not in the bathroom."

"But you're an excellent distraction by judging the sight." In the interim, his mammoth, smooth hand fiddled the doorknob, verging to flee the bathroom within a handful of seconds, in spite of liking the sight and finding it for embarrassing. Smug grin sprouted on her pale as ghost, still youthful face as if the grin was her armor. "First and foremost, we haven't even dated. Second, we haven't even kissed. Third, you know what else." He swallowed hard, hardly catching his breath in the bathroom where it became a searing sanctuary or trap of the Succubus.

"I know, I know. Since yar so embarrassed then hold on for a few more minutes and ya can finally brush yar teeth." The Bostonian's grin ebbed off her face, softing it with an amiable, open-minded smile, sketched across her lips. "I'm really sorry for being such an asshole to convince ya to come here even when I'm almost ready with taking a bath."

"It's okay! There is no point to apologize since I didn't take the joke seriously." Lump budded in his throat, throughout contracting his throat muscles in swallow. Looking away from her by lowering his blank eyeing to the tiles flooring. "I think to leave you at peace to finish your bath and then come for coffee downstairs."

"Alright! Did ya feed Edward?" Judy inquired sternly, emphasizing their ray of sunshine's name as once the priest fled the bathroom.

"Yes, I did. He's waiting for you too downstairs."

\- _A Couple of Hours Later_ -

The hours flew as quickly as shot lethal bullets.

Jude and Madeleine were in the small flower store in Vermont's slums by receiving per a few minutes new customers, anticipating agitedly to purchase any new flowers or plants whether for home to being look after, special occasions such as dates and romantic dinners.

Meanwhile, the radio was plugged in the plug, playing music.

"_I don't know why she's ridin' so high__! __She ought to think twice__! __She ought to do right by me__! __Before she gets to saying goodbye__! __She ought to think twice,__ s__he ought to do right by me__!_" The Beatles' song Ticket to Ride was currently playing on the radio as the eloquent multi voice chanted the lyrics.

"Maddie, I was seriously joking with him to enter in the bathroom, while I was in the bathtub, taking a hot, streamy bath in the morning!" The older lady scoffed, her long, slim fingers absently playing with the pen with which she scribbled in the notepad the money they earned from the clients up to now after they've purchased anything from the store.

"It seems it embarrassed him." The younger woman couldn't repress inward, girlish giggle, tickling the corners of her mouth as her mentor joined her. Their chuckles vibrantly contrasted. Jude's chuckle was rueful and inward in the same time, compared to her protégé.

"For sure! But I kinda regret how he didn't get instantly the prank." Her rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips parted in the scoff, leaving aloof the pen that was fidgetly brushing her fingers idly.

"I think it might be not a prank." The Michiganian said with emphasis, casting her lowered hazelish-brown eyes with scrutiny at the notepad with the notes, curling her lips in a timorous purse. "Judy, I really can tell you seriously like him and you want to have sex with him." Her chubby, well-defined cheeks tinged slightly pinkish than the sunset's bright nuances, painting its prospect.

"That's fucking bullshit, honey! I'm not getting laid with strangers or friends. That was just a long time ago, okay?" Deep breath flushed her brittle lungs, looking away from the sheet of paper with its took notes, thus landing her honey brown pools, grimaced in ablaze glare at the young woman, whose lips popped up."And of course, I don't want to have sex with him."

"_I think I'm gonna be sad__! __I think it's today yeah__! __The girl that's driving me mad__ i__s going away, yeah__! __She's got a ticket to ride__! __She's got a ticket to ride__!_"

"You're very good liar to confess, Jude! I didn't know the nuns are such hypocrites." The juvenile blonde's naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips produced the punchline of the joke, tucking a handful of silky aureate tresses behind her petite, sensitive ear gently, lovingly.

"Hey! That was pretty rude about the nuns. And let's not forget, I'm an ex-nun! I used to be a nun, Maddie!"

"Seriously? You didn't get the joke? Huh?" The juvenile saleswoman shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip as a hoarsely wry snigger clicked her tongue. "And let's continue the joke."

"Why?"

"The nuns have some kind of impure thoughts. They sin mentally not just physically. Even some of the priests are their secret Romeos."

"Maddie!"

"I'm just saying facts."

"But ya said it's a joke." The Bostonian chewed on her upper lip, huskily sniggering whilst Madeleine smugly, wickedly grinned at her.

"_She's got a ticket to ride__, b__ut she don't care__! __I don't know why she's ridin' so high__! __She ought to think twice__! __She ought to do right by me__! __Before she gets to saying goodbye__!_"

"It's a joke eventually. But it's somewhat the truth by opening the eyes and the windows to the reality." The younger lady cleared her throat afterwards, glancing at the door and windows, in case, if a customer enters in the flower store and eavesdropping their personal conversation.

"Is anybody outside about to enter in the store?" The elder blonde muttered the question under her breath, pursing her lips.

"I don't think so which relieves me."

"Oh Christ! Sometimes it's just despising when some customers couldn't help but listen to every part of our personal conversations as if it's part of their business."

"Their business is actually to buy plants or flowers, not to be spies or secretaries."

"_She ought to think twice__! __She ought to do right by me__! __She said that living with me__ i__s bringing her down, yeah__! __For she would never be free__! __When I was around__!_" The song was yet playing in the background.

"Exactly! So as there's a huge difference between a real business and putting yar nose in somebody else's business when it doesn't concern ya at all." The former woman of the cloth's lips instinctively popped up, exhaling sharply.

"And do not avoid the questions or implies I say!"

"Alright, alright! Don't be too stern with me!"

"I'm trying to tell the truth to you about you. Exposing your fears."

"How do you expose them? In some kind of jokes?" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer squinted up her cocoa brown irises, glinting vague irritation and sheer glee altogether.

"The life shouldn't be based on fears, dear! You should have fun. You should be more open-minded to the changes." The Michiganian cupped her cheek in the palm of her purely warm, delicate hand, looking up at the warmest hue of her cocoa brown irises, staring right at her soul with a smile. "For better, of course! So as to erase the fears by working on them as they aren't dominating your priorities and dreams."

"Mhm!" Jude bobbed in agreement, inhaling the flower cologne, waffling her nose as its emanation smeared subtly Madeleine's palms.

"You mustn't fear even from Timothy. He won't bite you. He did everything for you!"

"That's definitely true!" The former nun confirmed her words, nodding her head in strong agreement with a vague, benevolent smile honing up in the corner of her lips.

"So as he sacrificed every fragment of his bones just you and Edward to be safe and happy!" The pad of her thumb traced gingerly, featherly her perfectly shaped, swan curve of her cheekbone. Her pleasant warm breath puffing its whiff into her face. "Just think about your feelings towards him. Aren't they not only platonic?"

"_Ah, she's got a ticket to ride__! __She's got a ticket to ride__! __She's got a ticket to ride__! __But she don't care__! __My baby don't care, my baby don't care__! __My baby don't care, my baby don't care__! __My baby don't care, my baby don't care__!_" As the song was fading off in the background due to its final phrases of lyrics, afterwards the radio shifted directly on the radio news.

"Think twice!" The former devotional sister of the church muffled a bashful whisper, gapping her lips.

"Don't bullshit with me, Jude! Once again!" The caution left her lips as if that was a last warning from the austere, unwelcoming teacher after admonishing an undilligent, disobedient student for the upcoming consequences of his actions during a class.

"_The notorious Vermont serial killer, Cayden Gray was missing in his cell, according to a prison staff. The middle-aged man, known for his vicious crimes towards women and in rare cases men, is confirmed his prison break is eventually true._" The radio journalist started with breaking the news as the top news was Cayden's prison break."_It's confirmed he disappeared more than a few hours ago and he was lastly seen this morning in the common room with the other prisoners. At last but not least, the police started to research Vermont until they find him and lock him up behind the jail bars by awaiting up to the trial and the judge makes the final decision._"

"Oh shit! This dude is out of the custody. Even if it hasn't been a week since his arrest?" All of a sudden, the both adults were all ears once they heard of the serial killer's prison break that recently the radio news has announced.

"Please, don't tell me I'm dreaming!" The middle-aged mother evoked out, nibbling on the silken skin of her plump bottom lip.

"It's worse than a nightmare, Judy! It's the crude reality."

"I think, I'll leave Vermont for a few days just to see my former mentor, because I don't feel safe anymore since this asshat is out of the custody and he's now about to chase his next victims which are probably I, ya and Timothy."

"Are you completely sure to leave Vermont just because of such a psycho?" At the moment, the former religious member of the clergy thrummed as a giant beehive her response, nodding her head humbly, docilely. "You've Timothy and friends who're always next to you and have got your back if Cayden dares to attack you."

"I really need some time to reflect and to see my former mentor more than anything. Timothy can deal by himself with Cayden."

"No, Judy! You've fully mistaken. Cayden can stab and kill him. You have to be team players against this psycho."

\- _Later That Night_ -

The daylight hours have already died in the limbo along with the saturating pinkish and ruby sunset landscape, once airbrushing the sky until the sky suddenly darkened, replaced with darker nuances that airbrushed the prospect. The nights were colder than the daylights. Even they feudened the former priest's loneliness.

The blonde has already phoned the elder nun by informing her about her visit in Connecticut as the crucial goal of the former sister of the church was the taxi to drive her and her love child up to the train station which was a half an hour away from her new home.

Shortly after the compact family had a dinner, the British aristocrat cleaned the kitchen table and washed the already used dishes and eating tools, whereas the Bostonian went upstairs to pack certain convenient garments such as underwear, tops, slacks, skirts, dresses including baby attires, remarkable paraphernalia by storing them in her grandiose, sufficiently heavy suitcase and calling a taxi to pick her up after acknowledging where's current residence of her ex-mentor, Mother Claudia.

Once the British compatriot has finished with the housework, the two-story house became way too silent, consumed in fatal silence more than for a half an hour. Little did he know where his right hand was with their little cherub angel. The last time when he saw her was while having a dinner in the kitchen. At last but not least, Jude hasn't mooted her final decision after dinner to flee Vermont for Connecticut without any farther explaination for a few days, in order to see Mother Claudia and relax from her impure thoughts she has of the former Monsignor.

Timothy was home alone and he surveyed each room of his property to find his rare bird or his son at least, however, there weren't any tangible tracks of them. In each room, everything seemed untouched or just like when she vanished after Cayden locked her up in the attic especially in a cage. His anxiety growled in the pit of his stomach, incapable of resting for a single second unless he assimilates and acknowledges the Bostonian and Edward Ralph's recent location they aimed. Hopelessness sheathed numbly his heart as it numbly, vehemently throbbed in his chest nonetheless.

Once his rare bird was gone and witnessed the gruesome torture she's been through its stoic roller coaster, now she's dissipated not alone but with their little sweet ray of sunshine. He was more than worried for their sakes and their endangered lives. What if somebody has kidnapped them especially his rara avis, tortures her with Edward and leaves them sorely, slowly but surely suffer and die in their own envenoming pain? What if somebody suspicious has found her wandering the slums or the outskirts' streets of Vermont, beating her and her son to death?

What if a leery gang found her and dopped her even tranquilized her by barbarously raping her and their son, thereafter murdering them inhumanely?

What if they just dissipated just because of the early happened between Jude and Timothy in the bathroom?

What if an eerie stranger is driving her to anywhere by plotting her alleged kidnap?

If either of these scenarios happens to his and one of a kind Jude and their precious son, on the contrary Timothy wouldn't forgive himself for the rest of his days and his strongly, solemnly took vow would be violated than a false promise and his betrayal.

When the British compatriot stepped in the living room to watch the evening news, all of a sudden it startled him as its angst boiled incessantly into his veins, subsequently its amalgation of angst and lividness brewed and cooked inside him when his chocolate brown pools were goggled on the television screen, noting the Vermont's outskirts, taking its place of a car accident of taxi.

"_A car accident befalls Vermont just hours after the vicious serial killer Cayden Gray has successfully escaped the custody. 3 people are actually involved in the car crash, as a result of 2 injured and 1, who's already passed away shortly after its incident. The injured are being transmitted to the nearest hospital to being cured for the next 24 hours until they recover from the injury._" Meanwhile, the screen jumpcut to the ambulance that has arrived immediately on the accident's place, whereas the both injured victims were laid on patient beds.

"No, no! This couldn't be true!" His colossal, milky as snow hand covered his mouth outrageously mortified by tiptoeing as a shadow up to the phone to inform Frank and Madeleine about the car crash where Jude and Edward were involved, luckily, surviving, despite with severe injuries. His epidermis was blanketed in hypodermic, glacial goosebumps, whereas the back of his neck's hairs bristled, without averting his mortified gawk from the television screen, noting the unconscious blonde laying peacefully on her bed. "No!" Twin tears dripped from his eyelids as icicles, unable to wipe them, whilst his pristinely fidgety, distressed fingers dialed on the phone the former police officer's phone number.

"_But the good news for now is that the middle-aged woman and her almost five-month-old baby, by judging visually his age have survived the car crash and the taxi driver, who drove them, passed away at age 38._"

"Jude? Edward?" Sometime later after the former ambitious holy man arrived in the hospital, whilst Madeleine and Frank haven't arrived yet, he scurried up to the registry office to ask the nurse for his former lover and their love child's patient room they're being conveyed at the moment. Meantime, Timothy breathlessly scurried until he averted for a split second his stare from the younger woman. "Good evening, ma'am!"

"Good evening, sir! What I can help you with?" The friendly nurse enquired the older man with an affable, kindhearted smile, kissing her bloody red lips by looking up at his blanched, sweaty-stained complexion.

"I'd like to know where Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard are."

"Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard, right?"

"Exactly!" The British aristocrat emphatically, hastily replied, yearning to pay a visit to their patient room they were recently conveyed after the vile car accident. In the meanwhile, the brunette's glowing emerald green irises lowered to the registry with the patients which were recently signed as a part of the facility's responsibility. Her forefinger traveled downwards to the lastly jotted patients' names by scanning them within a handful of seconds until she met Timothy's glassy, jaded stare, glistening grizzly hues and allusions of insomnia and weariness as the warmest chocolate brown pigment lost its genuine, luxurious pigment.

"They're exactly on the same floor, Mister! Room 103!"

"Alright! Thank you very much!" Shortly afterwards he resumed his destination in the scarcely crowded hospital as there were a couple of people, anticipating by seating outside the patients' rooms in the long, profound with its flickering lights hallways. "Excuse me, may I enter in room 103?" The former aspiring Monsignor questioned the doctors who just left the patient room under the number 103, darting glassily their dark eyes at the visitor.

"Sure!"

"Thank you!" Once Timothy opened in a single click the room's door by shutting it behind him, being all alone with the injured from the car crash victims, he ambled up apprehensively, grimacing his yet young-looking, fresh complexion. "Rare bird?" The younger man glanced horrifiedly at the senseless older woman, biting his lower lip fearfully. Dew of moistness deluged his fragile eyelids as crystal, bittersweet tears budded under his eyes, verging to tumble down on his cheeks. His heart ached endlessly at the sight of the former nun's unconscious body, donned in patient's rigid, shapeless gown with short ruffled sleeves and boat neckline, exposing her forearms and neck with mauve tints and bruises, whilst already dried blood on her temple with its acute reek, waffled across the former priest's sensitive nostrils. He felt like in a horror movie or a thriller by dwelling in the reality realm where the crude horrors circled him in a vicious cycle. "My little sweet cherub angel?" When he seated on the edge of his former lover's bed, he begun delicately, dotingly to stroke their heads, consequently peppering the tops of their heads and bruised cheeks with feather, loving kisses. Timothy had no intentions to wake them up. They were unconscious just for now. They deserved to rest. The British compatriot sensed his heart cracked as its scattered trillions of glass, flimsy pieces sheeting the chaos. He was praying his heart out to be still alive and most of all, to not dive their train of thoughts and precious memories in the limbo. His mammoth, amusingly warm hands brushed faintly, warily their cheeks without tracing and indicating the damage of the car crash, affecting their bruises and injures. "I don't know why you were about to leave me again, however, I'm so scared to lose both of you especially you, my rara avis!" The younger man leant against her as his pale-pinkish, soft as velvet lips captured her bruised lip, savoring the dry blood and the debauched sweetness of the kiss and platonic lust.

What Timothy hoped more than anything was Edward and Jude to come to their senses whether sooner or later even enquire her over her plotted disappearance for a few days, barely knowing her intentions of visiting the old pious sister of the church since they haven't seen each other for a long time. Not just decades. It just a few years or almost a year.

When he broke off the kiss, his face withdrew with a couple of inches from her palish, unhealthily mauve tinted complexion without disturbing her anymore. He could spend the eternity, sitting on the edge of her patient bed without averting his gazes from her and his son as a Grim Reaper, nevertheless, he'd rather prefer be with his small family rather than eat or drink anything. He deeply cared more about Jude and Edward's welfare and health conditions rather than anything else in this world. It would haunt him for the rest of his life the devilish shadows and demons if he loses either of them at least. His mammoth, soft as baby skin hand yet caressed, played with her crispy greasy, unkempt mop of coppery golden curls, ruffled on the cotton, comfortable pillow. His cocoa brown orbs fell on the monitor, indicating her heart pulse along with his son, keeping his wits about their current condition until something urges their endangered lives.

Author's Note: What are your thoughts on Jude leaving for Mother Claudia, her ex-mentor, in order to see her? Is it some kind of an escape from that awkward, scoffing situation in the bathroom where she ushered Timothy to enter? Or rather, that's an escape from Cayden since his escape was recently announced? Or both? Do you think Jude and Edward will be still alive and come to their senses sooner or later?

I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter as well! I'd like to apologize if I update it slightly late along with Without You, nonetheless I'm going to focus on Without You by finishing it these days pronto, whilst the new chapter of Wings of Light is the next week!


	16. Tourniquet

**Author's Note: This chapter is going to be based on one of my formally favorite songs along with a handful of songs from the Spotify playlist which I quickly got hooked up on it especially by judging the hospital situation with Jude and Edward after the car crash. **

_ playlist/0ZDLFx12rlMgsZDmVcXAK5_ **Anyway that's the link to the Spotify list for the new chapter. Don't be surprised if heavy music predominates in Wings of Light's atmosphere. There are going to be more cheerful and romantic ones in the forthcoming chapters!**

**Read for yourselves what happens after the surprising bad ending of the previous chapter. Happy reading! :))**

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

_"How I'm supposed to do this?"_

_"Just like that. Don't focus on me as if I'm not in the bathroom." _

_"How do you exposethem? In some kind of jokes?"_

_"The life shouldn'tbe based on fears, dear! You should have fun. You should be more open-minded tothe changes. "For better, ofcourse! So as to erase the fears by working on them as they aren't dominatingyour priorities and dreams." _

_"No, no! Thiscouldn't be true! No!"_

"_But the good news for now is that the middle-aged woman and her almost five-month-old baby, by judging visually his age have survived the car crash and the taxi driver, who drove them, passed away at age 38._"

_"Rare bird? My little sweetcherub angel? I don't know why youwere about to leave me again, however, I'm so scared to lose both of youespecially you, my rara avis!" _

The hours after his plotted escape from the custody even from the punishment that awaited him after the trial and the hearing, Cayden has has arrived back in his dilapidating property safe and sound.

Under the sheening moonlight in its under the roundness, nobody has spotted him or glimpsed at the recently escaped infamous serial killer. No single face, roaming Vermont like stray dogs has seen him. The question was too easy. Cayden snuck anywhere, in order to not being caught by the authorities, nor by anybody from the general population. His resilient silence, sneaking from corner to corner as an assassin disquieted him as a task. Little did he know for his own luck how nobody hasn't even noticed wee hints of him even something leery behind some hideouts, in case, if the intruders incredulously scrutinized the hideout, not having the sheer luck to note any track of the notorious serial killer, nonetheless.

His prison break was recently not only on the general population' tongue tips, moreover the main breaking news on the news whether radio or television ones for the last twelve hours. Even when the single father was endangered to being investigated all over the small state, his strong-willed, versatile determination, boiling its tempestuous lava into his veins and flushing his throat was actually to alter his appearance by changing a handful of things behind his notable appearance that the majority were aware and they could tell it's the most notorious serial killer in the northern small state by judging the facial features, the beard he allowed to grow with its hoary beard for the past days without shaving his facial hair, factly, he was in the custody. His remarkable hoary with fading due to the age chestnut pigments which was actually his once natural hair color capped his head as short mop. His piercing, tempting with the warmest cocoa brown orbs with the most cold-blooded, lethal scintillas, glinting circa his pupils. Indestructible contrast between the warm cocoa pigment of his irises and the energy which mirrors as twins of citrine. His cockily venomous smile smearing across his thin, pale-pinkish lips. The indisputable, ethereal arrogance contouring his facial features of the bad guy's prospect. His dark suits, sheeding like a snake skin his sturdy, tall figure. The suspicious cologne, besprinkled on his wrists, hair and neck.

The psychopath spent a sleepless night in his two-story house without daring to crawl in the bed, in case, if somebody vagabonds circa his property whether a stray or wild animal, a cop or otherwise a mere Vermontian.

His train of thoughts was incessantly reeling with its caravans of his sly ideas as a part of his vengenance for the foes that are responsible for his arrest. A few caravans for finding somehow the former members of the clergy and Madeleine by bloodthirstily assaulting them and afterwards trapping them in an endless, slow but sure agony until they die in a soreful pain after venoming naturally their bodies, bones and muscles with its inevitable torture. One caravan to alter his appearance, howsoever, how was his essential question, whirling in his whirlpool of thoughts.

As the middle-aged man stepped in the meager bathroom as its poor quality decoration encompassed him as an ordinary background for an infamous serial killer, his double him was reflexed on the medium-sized, wooden oak-framed mirror, hanging over the marble, smeared in mold for the lack of hygiene and upkeep sink, ideally matching with the indecent conditions, portraying realistically the bathroom's prospect. At last but not least, even rats and cockroaches crawled on the tiled flooring which wasn't bothering the psychopath at all. It was his second nature to keep them in the bathroom. By so far, that's his home and his rules.

Meantime, the middle-aged man wore nothing else than scarlet red cashmere casual trousers, covering his long, brawny legs as its muscles due to exercises haven't convexed, a plain white tank top, contouring his sturdy muscles that paradoxally were concealed in neat, gentleman shirts and midnight black as the unavoidable death blazers.

His colossal, calluous hand snatched the tube with shaving cream and the old, baptized in blood navy razor by turning the faucet with running cool water to rinse it for extra effect including his straw of grizzly beard, christened in moistness. He removed swiftly the tube with shaving cream's cap by tossing it in the sink bluntly, recklessly as he was mainly focused on his stubble hoar beard, mapping his jaw and under his nostrils. He wringing the end of the tube as its palish cream meanders like silver rivulet in the wee hours of the morning shortly before the scintillating sunrise. His coffee brown eyes were darted on the motion of the wringed shaving cream, clammily contacting his calluous palm's skin. His berry-coloured, wet tongue tilted his upper lip cunningly, vilely. The silence and the rats and cockroaches' march symphony were the sole sourcing sounds in the demolishing, resembling godforsaken property. The night was far from loud. It was as silent as the slow but sure death.

His heart serenely drummed in his chest, playing rhythmically its drum of instrumentality. For sure, his only child, Martha and his brother, Sebastian, were well-informed about his prison break not via him except the news.

In the meanwhile, his solely free hand that dropped the opened shaving cream tube in the sink, smudged the only areas where he planned to remove the facial hair, altering his appearance as smartening. As usually, Cayden shaved twice a week, smartening his looks without allowing any bearded area, mapping his parchment complexion. However, Cayden decided to experiment with the shaving this time by shaving the rest of the marked places with exception his chin, leaving it goatie as little did he know how's going to look on him. Would it rather suit him or on the contrary, look obnoxiously ludicruous? That's the crucial question, swimming in his mind. The experiments weren't his top priority or his passion, howsoever, he liked them by trying something new. Something different. Something uncommon. Something which might look good on him. Or rather, looking obnoxious on him.

As soon as he grasped the blood-stained razor with which he has tormented even attacked some of his victims, it razored the beginnings of his facial hair especially the moustache area, relishing the encumbering stubble peeling off his skin like serpent. Evanescence of beard. Evanescence of scruffiness. Evanescence to refinement on his physical looks. The change could be for better. The single father would be inrecognisable for the general population even for the cops with an exception. The exceptional element behind his identity to be exposed and get him in trouble again is his raspy, deep voice and his accent as well. Even if his daredevil nature allows him to commit another inhumane crime or epitome of the vile, barbarous and unacceptable, the jail bars or a mental institution would be his new home for the rest of his life.

"The incarnation of me is going to have multiple faces, not just one with the dark, neat suits, the cleanly shaven face and the cologne! The old I is going to be just a mirage for everybody very soon." Cold, dryness was vomited in his declaiming monologue, strong-willingly, versatily to embrace his smartening looks. Tourniquet of the old, the outstanding Cayden Gray, known for the dark suits, the succumbing deep, Italian accent and cologne, the mysteriousness in his manners and actions and the cleanly shaved face. "But for my enemies, it's a surprising nemesis for them!"

\- _An Hour Later_ -

Midnight was approaching way too soon. The hospital was as silent as a grave. It reeked of death, medicine, silence as a common mental hospital, although some differences. The typical place, where was not only for cure for patients and laboring for future mothers, furthermore a morgue for certain people. From newborns to elders, who're about to pass away due to a natural cause, vehement, vain illnesses that have hammered away than their fragile bodies and many other causes of their sudden deaths. The last place on earth they're going to visit and behold before their iffy death.

The heartbeat monitor reccuringly played rhythmically a requiem symphony, indicating the recent heartbeats of the recently conveyed patients who've been there for a half and an hour. But they weren't alone at all. Jude and Edward weren't alone. They were resting peacefully on their patient beds like wounded animals after the barbarous hunting that has agonized them with murderous panick and grazed their epidermis after for their own luck fleeing the hunting zone. Timothy's head ducked, squinting his transfixed cocoa brown irises as his irises pigmented blanched cocoa, diminishing its genuine, vibrant hue. Grimaced whitened, youthful face, lost its true genuine bright colors that amalgamated his true facial skin tone. Dehydration dried his throat, epidermis and organs. His heart sunk and it was numb not for seconds. Almost two hours of starch stiffened his complexion, sketching facial features in more somber nuances and unspeakable distress. He felt nothing. The heartbreak swaddled in a glacial hug his heart, constricting his chest. He couldn't look away from the faces of his old friend and their ray of sunshine.

Mauve with its dry blood tints and scraps from head to toes were incorporated a whole paradoxal, chaotic complex. The nightmare complex of the possible death and the impossible reunion as mortals. Mortality destined them since their births. Once they were born, their life was a fountain of dreams, goals, smiles, laughs, emotions, feelings and tribulations.

The former pious man of the cloth didn't have any intentions of fleeing the hospital to go back at home to have a decent sleep for almost a half a day at least, besides to eat or drink anything to fuel his body. The car crash disquieted him and awoke the insomnia as a skeleton key to the skeleton mystery box. Full of paradoxal and occult mysteries. His body didn't need any decent sleep. His body didn't need any whit or chunk of any kind of a food to nourish him. His body didn't need any liquid or liquor to hydrate himself. The only thing he yearns now more than anything is witnessing the moment whether his love child or his former lover come wake up from the car accident by exchanging valuable words. To fill the gaps of the void, refilling and to band the scars and wounds on his flimsy heart. To wipe off the grotesque, melancholic frown by replacing it haphazardly with a beaming, content smile, flashing as a lighting bolt upon his parchment, restless complexion. Nonetheless he yearned to behold the already opened eyelids of his son and love interest, to enquire his right hand about the car crash that befell her and verged to take slightly more victims with itself. There was only one God to answer his prayers for Jude and Edward.

His colossal, milky as lilly hand squeezed tightly, emboldeningly the blonde's petite, astoundingly lukewarm as the thumb of his hand kneaded the back of hers and the brittle knuckles in a gentle motion. As gentle as a breeze.

The victims of the car incident haven't even come to their senses yet. The kipping was something ineluctable for them at any cost. They deserved to rest, to recover from the injuries. To heal physically and mentally. This is a bit too much as a tough experience for them especially Jude shortly after the attempted rape, the sugarcoated manipulations by Cayden and the sedation after savoring the red wine and the dinner meal on her first date with him by being thrown in a cage, locked up inhumanely against her will. The Bostonian has been through many hardships that ladened her physically and mentally, nevertheless, she didn't give up easily by learning from her mistakes and continuing her life journey.

"Please, rare bird! Don't die and leave me as a single father of an only child!" Murmured tearful whisper poked his tongue tip, incapable of averting his stare from his small family he had as the nearest unlike his birth town. Budded as flowers on the bushes and trees crystal, bittersweet tears poured as a catalact of heavy rain, staining his face with humidity and his blinking its tears eyelids incarnadined. His solely free hand's long, smooth fingers tucked a handful of greasy gilt harvest of tresses behind her petite, sensitive ear. "Or rather you, my little lovely cherub angel, leaving your dear mother and father childless as you mother have fought so hard to have a baby and the only luck she'd to become a mother is now by having you!" Meanwhile, his only free hand drifted up to his son's chubby with its mauve welt, grazing his facial skin cheek, his thumb gingerly tracing his cheekbone without daring to risk touching the welt and bruise or on the contrary, he'd bleat the shriek in pain. "If I lose either of you or both of you in the same time," A sharp exhale flared from the top of his brittle lungs, sniffling quietly to himself. "I'm a complete nothing. Does it make any sense to continue my life without both of you?" The former aspiring Monsignor leant, resting delicately his forehead against hers without having any intentions of waking her up. The skins' connection sent shivers down his body and spine of alleviating sweetness, pleasure and mild embarrassment. Pleasure and alleviating sweetness since he longed to being consoled and to console Judy and Edward and he found it for somehow comforting to console himself by resting his forehead on hers. Her porcelain, mapped with pinkish tints complexion drenched due to his frequently gushing down tears as a poured heavy rain. "I deeply regret for the mistakes that I did back in Briarcliff in the past as they've nothing to do with the present and future, but I want to know why you suddenly disappeared from home after dinner." His pale-pinkish, soft as satin lips grazed her temple with a tender, feather peck. "What I've done to you again? Is everything my fault?"

All of a sudden, a few light, polite door taps caught him off guard. His heart hammered violently in his ribs cage as plate armor against the sensitivity of his heart that verged to spring up as a toy-out-of-the-box. At first, he thought it was the doctors or the nurses as some of them were sufficiently unwelcoming at first sight by sending away their visitors from the hospitalized patients for staying whether for 5 minutes or hours.

"Who is it?" In spite of the hoarseness in his British accent, his palms were coated in a generous layer of clamminess, raising an arch of his thick eyebrow.

"It's us, Tim!" The distinctive voice was recognizable for Timothy. It was Frank, who was accompanied by the juvenile saleswoman of the flower store, Madeleine. Even more, Roman, Madeleine's older brother accompanied the both adults. "We're here for Judy!" The former police officer detailed the real motive why he's in the hospital by instantly keeping Timothy's wits about their appointment in the institution shortly after he acknowledged the car crash via the evening news.

"Come in!"

"Oh hi, Timothy! It's unbelievable what happened to them." The young woman clarified by clamping with an elvish, amusingly warm gloved hand her mouth at the disturbing, explicit sight of the car incident's consequences. The bruises. The mauve and rosy tints, depicted on their fleshes from head to toes. Dryed blood on a few body parts. Their cut lips. Their skins embodied pain and suffer, however, not eventual death.

"I know. It deeply hurts me the current condition she and Edward are right now." The British compatriot exclaimed ruefully, withdrawing his face from the unconscious older lady's face, nibbling on the silken skin of his bottom plumpish lip.

"Oh no!" The security guard cleared his throat dramatically, seating on the edge of the young boy's bed, stroking dotingly his head as he was very fond of him since the first time he beheld him, during his visit in the former members of the clergy's mansion. "Not even ya, little sweet cupcake!" Sorrowful murmur produced Frank's baby pinkish lips without averting his gawk from the infant, who's also involved in the road accident. "Yar parents need ya so much. Yar a strong boy just like yar Daddy and beautiful like yar Mommy." A delicate, loving peck left Frank on the top of his head.

"Hi, Mr. Howard!" The youngest man earned the former priest's attention in no time, averting his stare from the elder blonde by landing his chocolate brown eyes on Madeleine's older sibling. Roman offered a benevolent, slight smile, nicking across his lips. Timothy quirked an eyebrow puzzled at the formal language of the younger man.

"Hi Roman! You don't need to be formal with me at all." The former ambitious holy man assured him, offering his hand for a handshake, returning the smile even when he grieved inside. "I'm just Timothy, Madeleine's friend and Jude's," In the interval, Roman cut him off curtly, bobbing his head.

"You're Jude's girlfriend." Madeleine swatted her older brother's shoulder playfully at the emphasis. "I bet."

"Roman, they aren't even dating one another!" The saleswoman corrected him, grimacing.

"Oh! So you're just friends or what?"

"Yes, we're, Roman!"

"It's so strange to be friends since you've a baby and I'm sure it necessitates a lot of care over it." Madeleine's brother arched an eyebrow bewilderly incredulous, pursing pensively his lips.

"It requites a lot of care, of course! And it's normal the friends to have their own children. Don't get me wrong, Roman!" The British aristocrat's nonchalance was vomited in his caution. "I know for example my old friends from Scotland, Maria and Noah had adopted their own child and they're astonishing parents without any doubt. They once dated and they just preferred to stay as friends and take care of innocent, wretched souls from the orphanages even adopting their own child."

"T-That's so weird!" Hemming scratched the youngest man's throat as its syllables vibration. Disgust and bewilderment swathed his facial features, chewing on his upper lip reluctantly. "I've never had such friends to take care of a child even when they're friendzoned."

"Everything is possible, Roman! Listen to yar uncle Tim!" The young man's lips popped up when Frank addressed him with a tad irritation, huffing and lingering as serpentine venom, lacing his tongue with its greenish lethal weapon. "He knows better and he's more experience. Believe me!"

"I owe you a big credit for defending me, Frank," Meantime, the British compatriot turned to his old frenemy, frowning. "But some people just need to collide with such duos that are just platonic and they've their own child, regardless the circumstances." Then his unbreakable eye contact fell on the juvenile gentleman as his lips flexed, producing the calm, chaste caution.

"I think you're right, because I haven't seen so much from this life, I guess. It's my mistake to exposlutate blandly, pointlessly even when I'm still learning and I don't know everything." Roman tilted his head, flushing a heavy sigh from the top of his lungs. "I just said what I think." He considered once again his words in low voice.

"Not everyone is supposed to agree, because it's totally okay to have disagreements, you know, brother!" The juvenile blonde winked gamely at her brother. "But I know so far that Judy wanted to go visit her former mentor Mother Claudia by taking with herself Edward." What she recalled from earlier today after the radio news about the notorious serial killer's prison break, Madeleine couldn't help but spill the tea about her friend's planned visit to Connecticut to see her former mentor Mother Claudia. She was the only person in the room, who knew the former sister of the church's intentions and plans for the next few days.

"Maddie?" All of a sudden Timothy and Frank darted their darkened in diabolical mortified stares to the young lady, whilst Roman surveyed the facial features of the traffic accident victims warily. "Did she tell you this?" Timothy inquired in brilliant bafflement, biting his tongue unintentionally.

"Yeah, she did! Earlier today when we acknowledged that bastard's gaolbreak via the radio news."

"So why she's planning to leave Vermont for a few days?" The oldest man posed the question as his face creased, while the younger man's eyebrows furrowed suspiciously and chewing on his lip.

"Because she doesn't feel safe anymore since Cayden is out of the custody and she wants to see her ex-mentor as well. And I almost forgot, she wanted to reflect."

"W-What about me?"

"Tim, she said you can deal with Cayden by yourself, in spite of I told her you can be killed viciously by this psycho!" The Michiganian exhaled abruptly as her fidgety fingers played uneasily, whereas vague vexation perched on his facial features and wedging his lips in an arcanely aggravated purse.

"I really need to talk to her urgently but after she recovers."

"Come on, Tim! Yar rare bird wants to see the Mother Superior but it looks like ya disagree." In the meantime, the widower swatted amicably his old frenemy's muscly, broad shoulder.

"I don't disagree, Frank! I just need her word about her intentions to leave me for a few days, while that psychopath is roaming freely in Vermont after the jailbreak." The British aristocrat's retalitation tingled his ears as vexation and anxiety were brewing and cooking inside him as a toxic cauldron's soup.

\- _A Couple of Hours Later_ -

\- _8__th__ of February, 1966_ -

The hours flew slowly but surely like the intoxicatingly malignant venom, spat on the recent victim by dying steadily.

When Timothy was encircled by his inner circle to pay a visit to Jude and Edward Ralph, a quarter an hour later one of the doctors entered to austerely caution them to leave and they can revisit the patient room tomorrow, besides the barbaricly injured preys deserve rest and to not being disturbed at all.

In spite of the former policeman and Wilsons left the facility as they're on their way to home unlike the former policeman, who should be back to work, the former Monsignor preferred to stay in the hospital with hours, sitting numbly in the long, dim light hallway where's located room number 103.

The dim lights flickered in a choir as the electrity in the hospital wasn't high-quality, nor low-quality. What it bothered Timothy was that it's been six hours since the road accident and his former lover, nor his baby son haven't waken up yet.

With each second, the heart beats fervently whanged ofttimes as any elapsing second was full of surprises for him. Whether one of the doctors leaving the patient room to break the news or on the contrary, allow him to reenter the room once again to behold the middle-aged lady and their creation, made of their flesh and blood. But it was the same. They overlooked him by passing him, minding their business or on the contrary, announcing him per an hour about their conditions.

"I just can't go home at peace unless either Edward or Jude wakes up!" The British aristocrat's reminder almost died in a whisper in the desert hallway of the hospital, bowing his head by supporting his temple with his both colossal, veiny hands. It was already five o'clock in the morning after scanning the wall compact clock, indicating correctly the recent time in Vermont. "I can't eat properly. I can't even drink trifle water. I can't even sleep and close my eyes for a quarter an hour at least." His fingers's calluouses squanshed his haircut's hairline beginnings, blinking incessantly his incarnadine eyelids, stung with inhumane fatigue and restlessness in the same time, feudening and cusping. "But I can't give up easily. I'm tired but I can't stop now." Emboldening whisper reminded him.

"Mr. Howard, you've been there for more than 5 hours!" All of a sudden, one of the passing doctors in the corridors who worked a double shift caught him off guard, squeezing genially, politely his muscly, broad shoulder to earn his prompt attention. He stung his stiffened in fatigue cocoa brown orbs at the nurse that offered him a sympathetic, vague smile, carving her peach pink lips. "Do you need something to eat or drink?" Her glowing amber brown pools were transfixed on his, staring right at his soul as if she was a saintess, her long, ebony black eyelashes with applied mascara flapped like crow's dark feather wings. His heart raced at her sudden aspect and her cordial question. She didn't look older than 40. Her still youthful, pleasantly dark-tanned skin tone powdered every inch of her exposed flesh, matching with her ebony tresses were coiffed in an elegant French twist, framing ideally her enthralling, middle-aged-like facial features. Her body structure was lean as she wasn't tall at all. She stood only 5'5 like the former pious sister of the church. At last but not least, the friendly nurse was donned in her medical apron along with a chambray snow white sweater, midnight black slacks and charcoal black boots, ankle length.

"N-No! I just want to make sure my son and my friend are alright." Meantime, the former member of the clergy tilted his head to meet the amiable nurse's concerned stare, scarcely able to flex his jaw in a slight, reassuring smile. "I'll be fine without water or food, ma'am!"

"You don't seem fine at all, Mr. Howard! You even look sleepy." He stung his eyes at her card, attached to her apron, scanning with his weary eyes her last name.

"Dr. Grimes, I'll be fine without sleep! Thank you for your kindness, but I don't need anything to reassure me unless I see Judy or Edward awake." In the meanwhile, she rubbed amicably, lightly his shoulder with her slim, dark as ashes fingers.

"You can come over my office to have a fresh, hot cup of coffee and take a break from your worries, okay?" Nikita didn't have abundance of opportunities to distract the fewest visitors in the hospital with something better with exception of offering him coffee and have a good talk. At the moment, the British compatriot bobbed his head in vague agreement, pursing his lips meekly by getting from the chair and escorting the middle-aged lady to her office, located on the second floor. Their shoes clicked against the tiled flooring as Timothy was humming inwardly to himself, solely distinctive for his ears. "It surprises me how you agreed this time."

'I just need coffee to keep myself awake for longer, Dr. Grimes! It doesn't matter if it's three o'clock in the morning or even six o'clock in the evening, I'll make sure to be here for my family." Heavy sigh flushed his chest, surging its oxygen from the top of his brittle lungs.

"I know so far they're in car crash hours ago and the taxi driver passed away shortly after the tragic events." Nikita's southern accent emphasized the entire sentence, while Timothy's lips popped up as exploding firecracker.

"I know, ma'am! Even the news was truthful about the gruesome accident the last night." As soon as they towered the stairway for the second floor and the slightly older woman unlocked her office, holding the door for the visitor amicably. "I'm speechless!"

"I know but can you call me just Nikita, if you don't mind?" The Texasian requested, chewing on her upper lip as Timothy bobbed his head humbly shortly after stepping inside her office.

"Nikita!" The British compatriot repeated her name rhythmically, vaguely joyful smile flexed his jaw line, seating against her empty bureau. "That's a pretty name."

"Thank you! Do you mind if you tell me your name?"

"Timothy!"

"Timothy! You don't seem American at all." The Texasian went to the café machine in her office after shutting the office door, instantly recognizing her recent guest wasn't American at all by judging his accent and appearance, besides his birth name. "Aren't you actually English?"

"Yes, I'm English, coming from London!" In the interim, the slightly older woman was past the café machine, wiping the generous layer of perspiration, veiling her temple with the back of her hand. "I'm actually having 2 home lands."

"That's quite interesting, Timothy! I'm actually from Texas as I moved here in Vermont ten years ago, because I couldn't stand the sweltering climate during the summer days. It's nothing but a desert in Texas when it's so unbearably hot." She puffed a faint sigh at the thought of her homeland. "And a quick question. What kind of coffee would you like to drink now?"

"Some black coffee! I don't want Cappucinno, nor Americano or whatever you might offer as choice for coffee!" Meanwhile, the younger man turned to face the Afro-American, landing his cocoa brown orbs on the coffee machine and her in the same time, licking his lips even when brook of dryness dried his mouth and throat.

"Okie doke! And my father is an Afro-American, while my mother is Canadian! I look nothing like my mother except having her nose and eyebrows." She pressed the button for black coffee, waiting patiently to process over the coffee preparation.

"I'm really impressed to hear this. My family is one percentage English without any doubts! And do you like it better in Vermont?"

"Yeah, for sure, Tim!" The nurse cleared her throat gruffily, seconds before the reply. "Vermont is better place for living. It's much smaller than Texas."

"Oh! I've been living there for almost a half a year." The former aspiring Monsignor's confession unzipped his lips.

"That's awesome! Where you used to live before Vermont?"

"Urm, Boston!" Pale-pinkish lips played the stutter with sore throat after dehydrating himself for hours, torturing himself after the road accident that befell his former lover and ray of sunshine. "A small city of Massachusetts."

"I'm not surprised why you emigrated somewhere closer." Shortly after the coffee machine halted to process the coffee, the middle-aged lady held with a couple of fingers the scorching caffeine beverage's plastic cup. "I bet there's some reason to move from Boston to Vermont."

"For sure, Nikita!" At the moment, the Afro-American handed the cup of coffee to the former priest as he bobbed his head, expressing his gratitude as a stray puppy after being fed by a stranger after starving and being dehydrated for days, yearning for love, care and supplies. "Thank you very much for the coffee! I really appreciate it."

"No need to! I think there's a personal reason why you're here. I don't want to sound prying at all."

"I moved in Vermont due to a handful of reasonable purposes." His baby pinkish lips grazed gently the top of the plastic cup of searing coffee, sipping a tad gulp sufficiently singening his tongue. "The dreadful memories I had recollected from Boston by having a fresh start here. The dreadful experience by facing abundance of ordeals that enough gradually ruined my friend's life and my guilty conscience crawled inside my skin." He took a deep breath, leaving aloof the cup of caffeine liquid on the oak wood desk. "From the pain I endured for damaging and being damaged in the same time. Trust me, Nikita, you wouldn't love to hear about it!"

"It's okay to make mistakes! You had awful memories in Boston and now you moved on in your life with your friend." The nurse's tongue clicked emphatically, throwing assuringly the serpentine venom. "I know so far that you and a young woman are responsible for Cayden's arrest by rescuing your friend from the vicious serial killer."

"Oh, that's true!" The former man of the cloth was far from surprised how the doctor was well-informed via the news about Cayden's arrest the last week.

"I can tell you did many good things for this friend of yours."

"I did even if I had done atrocious things to her."

"W-What for example you did to her?" In spite of the Afro-American's pure goodwill, shrouding her heart, what Timothy feared more than anything was igniting her ire and contempt after sharing the somber past of his which didn't take its place within a few years ago and he regretted it to bones. Furthermore, the younger man feared that if one day he spills the tea about his wrongdoings to his former lover, on the contrary she'd dump him by packing her entire luggage, going far away from him without allowing him to see his own son ever again.

Dramatic, chilly pause stiffened the office as the British aristocrat sipped from his cup of coffee, slurping insecurely the consumed caffeine liquid.

"A-Are you sure you'd like to hear it, Nikita?" He licked greedily, faintly with his twirled tongue his damp, coffee-stained lips.

"Look what, Timothy! It's just the past that divides you with the present and future. These worlds of the past, future and present are completely different and the past's world has nothing to do with your one of a kind being nowadays." A sharp, aflare exhale jetted from the top of her brittle lungs, scratching uneasily with her fingernails the top of her head. An optimistically assuring smirk inked on her face. "I won't judge you, no matter what you've done! Even if you've killed people."

"Well, she's absolutely right! We had a suspicious war criminal, known as a doctor of science, working in Briarcliff Manor. At first, I didn't believe her since she claimed he's a Nazi and one of his victims claimed that he stored Nazi souvenirs and explicitly pornographic photos which were so far disturbing." Lump flourished in his throat, consequently swallowing it hard. "The young nun, whom she considered as her own daughter role was possessed and manipulated me with Arden as he blackmailed me to expose everything of the facility. Even more the possessed young nun violated me and luckily, she hasn't stolen the virtue that I gave to my old friend." For a split second, his stare averted, breaking the almost unbreakable, sober eye contact. Increduility defined her facial features. "I tried to protect Jude by sending her in Pittsburgh, but, unfortunately, she was trapped by her foes and I was such a blinded fool to believe a Nazi war criminal, insanely possessed by the devil nun and a vicious serial killer who lied to me with tremendous malice to suffer for my bad decisions. Days before Jude gave a birth to our son, I made the final decision to get them out of the hellhole on the morning after the birth since we aren't supposed to raise a child in a mental hospital for criminally insane. She needed to rest after an entire night of exhaustion, mood swings, pressure and agony."

"You were naïve and you did mistakes which you assimilated them sooner or later which are better than keep doing them, Timothy!" Nikita nibbled on her lower lip, slurping her words silver-tongued, wisely. "And how did this young nun has got possessed by the devil? Is that even real?" Suddenly the question sprung up from her mouth like a toy-out-of-the-box since she wasn't a strong believer in the supernaturality and the existence of something celestial even unrealistic that was characterized for centuries ago.

"Halloween night, when two parents brought a teenager in Briarcliff to be exorcized and cured since he cannibalized the pigs in the barm, according to the parents' words and his peculiar behavior, I, Jude, Father Malachi and Dr. Thredson tried to bash the demon out of his body, despite the young boy passed away on the following night and when Mary Eunice entered in the ward, she fainted, as a result of the demon dwelling in her body." His pristinely long as flute stings played idly with the cup of coffee. "I didn't notice her eccentric behavior until Jude warned me she was possessed by the devil and I saw in the face of evil. The devil almost corrupting me and every ounce of me. Luckily, I released the demon out of her body somehow." In the meantime, the middle-aged lady quirked elegantly her dark eyebrow at the thought of exorcism and the supernaturality, poured in his straightforward monologue.

"That's ridiculously strange! I thought the exorcism was characterized for medieval era."

"But Nikita, trust me, sometimes some elements from the past centuries are common even for nowadays but it's rarely its true witnesses."

"I think even if you're wrong back then for what you did to her, you did the better. You got her out of the shithole, you had a fresh start and you helped her to recover and be on her feet." The older lady evoked, flushing her chest with a mild sigh.

\- _Flashback_ -

\- _21__st__ of September, 1965_ -

"_Waahh!" All of a sudden as Timothy paced in the women's wing profound, almost pitch-black hallway until a shrilling in agony bewail emanated as an acute reek of something stored on the same place for a long time from the ward, grabbing Timothy's attention. His oxfords clicked against the solid cemented, grizzle flooring of the old mental institution. _

_"__Oh no!" In the interval, the devotional man of the cloth's velvety, jaded murmur bleated his lips, scurring up to his former lover's ward, in order to unlock it as no security guards and no orderlies guarded it at the moment. "Jude!" He exclaimed her name, vaguely increasing its decibels, igniting the wildfire that awaited him by putting the rusty, old key in the keyhole until in a few clicks the cell's door was opened. "Jude! My rara avis, are you fine?" Even if the man of the cloth posed the question with immense concern, inking his charming facial features, an abrupt exhale jetted his chest._

_"__My water broke a few minutes ago. Arghhhh!" When he shut the cell's rusty, heavy door, he went on the right side of the patient bed, sitting on the edge of the tattered, skeevy after being a bed of thousands of patients before the former woman of the cloth being institutionalized against her will. Her calloused due to the firmness of its clutched in balled fists petite, milky as alabaster hands squashed her dappled in filthy taints of urine, filthiness and mold, losing its true color of sheer whiteness cotton blanket sides. Her jaw flexed in the gritted ivory, still firm for her midlife stage of her life teeth. Her unkempt, greasy lion mane of once with it's the most vibrant golden pigment tresses lost its true color, but it still looked stunning even if it's tousled and lacks of proper, decent hygiene. "I think the baby is coming right now."_

_"__Oh, it's great we're expecting the baby on its eve of the autumn season!" Meantime, his colossal, consolingly creamy hand managed to tuckle a fistful of greasy, honey strands behind her petite ear, throughout stroking delicately from her earlobe up to its cape of aureate mop of old Hollywood tresses until her aggressive growl flinched him. "I think it's high time to give a new beginning, a new life to our unborn cherub angel!"_

_"__Just help me, asshole!" The Bostonian's aggressively growled a bewail, narrowing her glaring squint as her glowing caramel brown orbs were as an alpha werewolf's scarlet rays, mottling her orbs. "If yar here to help me, just do it!"_

_"__Alright, Jude! All I need is to give me a sign whenever you're ready with the pushes." Even if his lacking experience with representatives of the opposite sex were his Achilles' Heel, anyway the British compatriot was sufficiently educated on the women's anatomy with what he learnt from school a long time ago by practicing it with Jude's laboring process. "Okay?" As his berry-coloured, dryly soft lips almost perched on her temple, she withdrew with a few inches her head, dodging his lips' contact on her temple, spreading her legs widely, preparing for the birth of the unborn child. _

_"__Don't ya ever dare to kiss me or do anything with me, asshole! I fucking swear ya will regret it once the child emerges."_

_"__You need to calm down, Jude! It makes the things even worse with doubling the pressure on yourself especially when you're in labor." Shuhing unzipped his baby pinkish lips, stroking her halo ringlet of unkempt gilded curls, framing her round, gorgeous profile for her age. "The stress and pressure are far from beautiful."_

_"__Do not try to tempt me once again, Monsignor! I was once yar holy whore and now yar going to be the godfather and father of our love child!"_

_"__Shh, shh! I'll be just the father of our baby." The younger man's honeyed, comforting whisper jingled reassuring tunes into the blonde's ears even if she almost overlooked them, throwing them in the limbo. "If you're ready to push, tell me!" Clammy, bountiful layer of perspiration veiled her parchment, pale as ghost complexion and wrists as Timothy unwrapped partly the blanket to have a better view over between her legs and crowning the unborn baby's head progress. "Don't be afraid of being,"_

_"__I'm ready! I just need ya and only ya, besides the doctor."_

_"__I didn't mean to mention it but the doctor is now busy with another impregnated young inmate."_

_"__Yar a priest and ya don't have any medical experience. That's what I can tell ya!" Meantime, his mammoth, veiny hands slithered down to her elvish, calloused by its adrenaline which brewed and cooked inside her to multiple the support for her during giving a birth. "I don't want yar lectures again and let's focus on the baby!" He squeezed tightly her hand, knotting his fingers on her frail knuckles._

_"__So as I don't have any medical experience, at least, I'll try my best to help you!" His solely free hand rubbed her shoulder consolingly, earning her stare by tracing his fingers under her jaw line, grabbing her chin with a few fingers and tilting her head, meeting one another's gazes. "Even if I were doctor, it would be the same. Are you ready to push?"_

_"__Y-Yes, I'm!" Faint nod in insecure agreement followed by a stutter confirmed Timothy's question, thereafter the former nun swallowed hard and taking a deep breath to prepare for her nightmare. Delivering the baby._

_The genuine idea of giving a birth in the wee hours of the evening especially after the patients were gathered in their own cells for extra good night sleep and being secured by the orderlies and security guards, who were taking double or night shifts in the old, infamous asylum, was far from good idea. First and foremost, the middle-aged lady has never given a birth and she still roted how she lived in a pure lie for years, believing the grim secrets of her grim past for the malicious carnal sickness and infertility being on the top of her train of thoughts as a taboo. Furthermore, it's a high time when the blonde figured out why she wasn't capable of nursing a child in the past few decades. Was a curse for her sleazy deeds or that was God's punishment towards her, having a plan for her? As far as she could recall when she heard about God having a plan about her was mentioned actually by Shachath, the angel of death. The fallen angel was actually her guide the last week when the middle-aged woman was trapped by Cayden. _

\- _End of Flashback _-

\- _Nowadays_ -

"Waaah!" The bloodcurling harrowing wails of his love interest antagonized with the reality realm by absentmindedly gawking at his fingers knotting the plastic cup of coffee, frequently blinking his eyelids in a choir which wasn't overlooked by the older lady. The wails were as clear as exactly almost five months ago, haunting him up to nowadays, although his humongous swamp of pride, swamping his flimsy heart for aiding Jude to deliver the baby. The forworning of elation experience the British aristocrat has been through almost a half a year ago haunted him up to today. He could never forget any fragment of the elating experience when he became a biological father for first time especially baring the child of his rare bird even if their toxic relationship was the incarnation of a genuine toxic relationship back then.

"T-Timothy?" Suddenly the Texasian snapped him out of his blizzard of thoughts, addressing him directly.

"Huh?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Y-Yes, Nikita! Everything is fine." The former pious member of the clergy shot her a reassuring stare as a vaguely peaceful smile bloomed on his lips.

"You seemed quite absent-minded and out of track." Little did he know he was lost in its reverie not just for a whole minute, nor for a half an hour. He glanced at his watch, biting his lip unnerved by scanning in a swift glimpse the current time "7:00am". "And I wanted to make sure the things are alright as well."

"Oh, did I?" Timothy looked up as he couldn't help but wryly, docilely chuckle, meeting the Afro-American's stare. "And the coffee is colder." His fingers reached for the chintzy's cup of coffee, tipping with its delicate fingertips.

"I bet it freshed you enough."

"It tried." The younger man's stammer harmonized his berry-coloured, dryly coffee-stained lips. All of a sudden a couple of polite, light door taps ambushed the both adults as Timothy turned to the door, whereas Nikita peeped over his shoulders. "What this supposed to be?"

"One of my colleagues as well. He might have some news for one of the patients even he might have for your friend and son too." Her Southern accent accentuated her riposte. "Come in!"

"Dr. Grimes," In the interim, the older man noted Nikita's visitor, glancing at him amicably. "Mr. Howard, you're lucky! Your girlfriend and son just woke up! You can come see them right now."

"J-Jude? Edward?" When the former ambitious Monsignor set a foot in patient room 103, in order to behold his former lover and their ray of sunshine, Edward nestled as a newborn in his mother's arms, suckling the breastmilk from her breast since he hasn't been fed for hours. "I'm so relieved you're awake." His light, masculine footsteps echoed in the patient's room, approaching the patient bed to seat on the edge, earning her prompt gaze, fueled with unconditional, unerasable disquietness and stress.

"Timothy? What's this place? Why I'm here?" The former devotional woman of the cloth's timidness in her posed question splotched their epidermis with goosebumps, stoicly opting to not focus on the strength of Edward's still growing teeth nipping her sore, mauve nipple.

"You had an accident the last night and the news said it, mentioning about the taxi driver passing away shortly after." His soothingly mammoth, creamy as baby skin hand reached for her long aureate mop of curls, cascading her shoulders, fondling it delicately. "I thought and I was so scared to lose you once I acknowledged your disappearance even more when the breaking news was a nightmare for listening. I hope it won't happen." Meanwhile, a quiet sob broke her down as salty, crystal, twin fat tears dripped from her fragile eyes, tumbling down knowledgedly as ruddiness vaporized her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion.

"Oh no! I'm scared to lose ya and I thought everything would end up to here." The younger man cut her off curtly, shushing calmly to her, whilst lowering his hand to her blade-bone, rubbing it consolingly, resting his forehead on hers. "Leaving ya all alone whether as a widower with a baby or losing both of us with Edward in this abominable road accident!'

"Don't blame yourself for all this, rare bird! It's not your fault." In the meanwhile his hand glithered from her lion mane of greasy old Hollywood tresses down to her jaw line, indicating it until he cupped in the palm of his comfortingly warm, larger hand her cheek, without averting his ogle from her. She muffled the sob, swimming in the background with their love child's lactating from his food source for the first months of his life. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay, Sunshine! At least, I'm relieved you're alive and the injuries weren't that serious."

"For how long are ya there?"

"You won't believe me but I'm here for hours." He lowered his voice, capturing the delicate, bruised facial skin of her temple in a feather, loving peck, avoiding touch and kiss her on her bruised and severely injured areas. "I spent the whole night there, in spite of I was in one of the doctors' cabinets for some coffee until a male doctor informed us that you were awake with Edward." The former licentious jazz nightclub singer's sniffles subdued in the background, fading away in the vacuum by reaching with her only free petite, milky as lily hand to massage the salient, toned muscles of his shoulder bone for doubling her console as her heart skipped a beat once he fessed he spent the entire night in the facility without resting for a single second. "Even shortly after the accident, I wasn't the only visitor here."

"Who else was?"

"Frank, Madeleine and Madeleine's brother Roman! They were deadly worried about you!"

"Did Maddie tell ya something about me?"

"J-Jude!" At the moment, the former holy man snapped her out of the controversial question, thinking she wasn't wholly ready and in healthy condition to discuss her decision for fleeing to behold her former mentor Mother Claudia in Connecticut for a few days. "You aren't ready for this. All you need to reflect is on your rest and our lovely cherub angel!"

"But Timothy," Stutter scratched her throat, flinching when her son's front teeth nibbled her sore nipple as for their own lucky, the wail in pain died on her tongue, slipping back in her throat as a stored pile of garbage. Her eyes widened as they were as big as an owl. "You didn't answer my question."

"No need to! Some things need a good, sober discussion when you fully recover from the accident which you shouldn't blame yourself."

As soon as the young boy finished with breastfeeding from his own mother's breast, she buttoned back her patient, rigidly shapeless gown's buttons, while Edward wiped with the back of his hand his soaked in breastmilk-stained lips, thereafter a satisfied belch slipped from his tongue. His big hazelish-brown orbs met his father's pair of chocolate brown orbs, linking them as opposites of magnets. "Aww, Edward! This belch is just in front of us." All of a sudden, a radiant, merry smile caught off guard Timothy's baby pinkish lips, whilst Edward giggled inwardly, joyously.

"Sweetie, yar such a little ogre!" She tickled with her delicate, slim fingers his chestnut hair, pressing the button of his babbling laughter.

"Mama!"

"He's so sweet like that."

"He's the sweetest child!"

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Howard! But your visiting time is over for today." Suddenly one of the doctors stormed off in the room, holding the door, casting a piercing, austerely coldhearted gawk at the younger man, gritting his teeth. Meanwhile, the small family flinched by turning to face the doctor. "You have 5 seconds to leave the room before I call the cops for violating the hospital's rules." In the meanwhile, the doctor commenced calculating the remaining time of Timothy which was being given to him to leave the patient's room. "1,"

"Jude and Edward, I promise I'll come back very soon to see you again!"

"Dada!" The infant babbled his father's nickname, his pudgy, childish fingers traced desperately his father's well-defined cheek.

"2," The older man cried out loud, keeping the former member of the clergy's wits about his limited time that was elapsing even quicker than the hourglass's indicating elapsed time up to now.

"Stay strong, Timothy! I'll miss ya so much." She held their ray of sunshine in one of her secure, lean arms, whereas her solely free hand cupped his cheek, pressing her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips on his cheek.

"I'll miss you too, my Sunshines!"

"3,"

"Stay strong my rara avis with Edward and recover as soon as possible!"

"I promise I'll stay strong!" Their faces withdrew with a handful of inches as Timothy peppered their cheeks with tender, doting kisses as they molted like chocolates.

"4,"

"I-I love you!" The three magical words almost died in a mellow, genial whisper, squeezing her elvish hand into his larger, protective, bringing it up to his mouth for a goodbye seed of kiss on her frail knuckles.

"I'm so scared to lose ya!" Meantime, he got from the bed, grasping her hand as a thumb kneaded reassuringly the back of her hand, emboldening her to stay strong during his absence.

"5," At the moment, the younger fled in a handful of swift steps without violating the doctor's order, releasing the comforting weight of her once grasped hand. "Don't worry, Ms. Martin! Chin up and rest peacefully until you recover!"

"T-Timothy?" In the meantime, the door slammed as the middle-aged mother was alone with her baby son, rocked in her lean, protective arms, blinking bittersweet tears again which almost betrayed to pour as a heavy rain on her face, staining it in salty moistness.

\- _Later That Day_ -

The hours flew in the slowest pace as if it alooked like years, turning into decades and afterwards in desperate centuries. While the former priest was home alone, he decided to invite Madeleine when she finishes her to come in the two-story mansion to drink some coffee and thus drive to the hospital to pay a visit to the elder blonde. During his entire spare time of the world, Timothy cleaned every room of his private owned property by dusting the furnitures, the floorings and vacuuming the flooring. He had no intentions of fleeing his property to the grocery store or somewhere else unless the Michiganian comes and finish their afternoon coffee.

Whilst Timothy finished with cleaning each room, all of a sudden, a few innocent door taps followed by ringing on the front door awared him of his recent visitor. Once he strolled up to the front door to unlock and open it, the young blonde scooped him in a platonically affable, tight hug as her both slender arms knotted his upper back.

"Hi Timothy!"

"Hi Maddie! You're slightly early out of work." Shortly after the both adults broke off the hug as the front door was already shut and locked, they walked in the kitchen as the Michiganian seated on the kitchen table.

"Don't be surprised at all, Tim! I didn't have any customers for the last few hours with exception of a couple of ones." Her lips curled in an ironic, kindhearted smile, following his adroit hands gathering a kettle with pooled water, 2 clean, white mugs for hot beverages. "How are you?"

"Feeling slightly better after I acknowledged she's still alive with Edward and they awoke."

"Oh! That's even better. Did she complain about the bruises?"

"Not at all!" He set the hot plate on maximum, awaiting patiently for the kettle with water to boil and chewing on his bottom plumpish lip reluctantly. "I told her what exactly happened and I comforted her as well."

"But you seem pretty disappointed in the same time, Timothy!" The juvenile lady didn't miss her straightforward comment, tipping idly the kitchen table's edges. He nodded. "Why is that so?"

"One of the doctors warned me if I don't leave the room in 5 seconds, he's going to call the police for violating the hospital rules and my visiting time for patients for today was over." A heavy sigh surged from the top of his lungs, parting his lips in muffling cleared throat.

"That's so merciless. I mean, it's understandable when the doctor warns you your time for visiting certain patients is over for today and you can come back tomorrow but," At the moment, the young woman ducked her head humbly, frustratedly by biting her upper lip as a temporal silence hummed in the background. "But telling you he will call the police in certain amount of time if you don't leave, he's treating you as an offender or a burglar."

"I can't disagree with you, Maddie!" The British aristocrat bobbed his head in strong agreement, backing her up instantly without any intentions of adding an additional commentary on her statement. "Although I saw twice Jude and Edward today as I spent more time with them when they're unconscious yet. But why it's unfair,"

"What is unfair, Tim?" The former Monsignor checked the kettle, in case, if the water started boiling.

"It's unfair how when something isn't alright, we spent like more time and being deadly concerned as if it's going to be the last time seeing or witnessing it than when it's fine from everywhere." Timothy took a deep breath, scratching nervously, idly his scalp with his small fingernails. "It's just the same with the people. I more cared about Jude when she wasn't on her feet after I got her out of Briarcliff than when she was an administrator of the institution and a madwoman."

"It's true but you ignored the fact that she was injured and senseless for almost a half a day when you were in the hospital earlier today."

"It saddens me how little time I did have to see her better after she came to her senses at last."

"At least, you've seen her stable and cherished each moment after the madness and before this road accident." The juvenile flower store saleswoman's down-to-earth, optimistic riposte zinged her lips.

"That's definitely true, although if I had a time machine to travel back in the time, bringing the past and realizing what I lost then to smack a good, firm slap across my face for being a jackass!"

"Stop judging yourself, based on the past you've built and demolished to basics! They destroy you if you overthinking them as if your past mirrors the present and don't make any difference between these timelines." A heavy, jaded sigh flushed from the Michiganian's chest, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Oh God! For example, my ex's best friend who tried to beat me, I set him on fire and do you know what, Tim?" She earned his astute, focused stare, goggled on her as if she's committed homicide or a crime. "I don't regret it! He deserved it for trying to beat me to death for being brainwashed by my ex and just imagine if I didn't defend myself at all. I'd eat every smack and kick and then being dumped somewhere in the slums as a piece of trash." Lisp lingered on her tongue as her northern accent accentuated her lisp. The haunting memories of her ex boyfriend's best friend chasing her and attempting to find her by teaching her a lesson brought her an adrenaline of pride, swamping the pit of her stomach, swallowing a light, budding lump in her throat. In the interval, the British compatriot arched an eyebrow in great bewilderment and surprise at her words, incapable of portraying the prospect of Madeleine defending herself by drawing matches and tossing it at the predator's figure. "Just think twice what a past event made you so proud up to nowadays without regretting any ounce of it."

"I feel bad for you how your ex brainwashed his best friend by trying to have his own revenge!" Suddenly the water in the kettle begun boiling as ocean of bubbles resurfaced on the top of the liquid. "But there is more diplomatic way to achieve his nemesis!"

"Come on, Tim! I understand the diplomacy when it comes up to that asshole that tried to rape your girlfriend and blinded her by finding somehow a way to imprison him and not lead up to a bloodthirsty war, but there are some vicious people who deserve nothing than pain for their disgusting intentions of hurting somebody!" The blonde smacked a slap past her forehead with the palm of her hand, shrieking a rejoinder. "Spill the tea about your past or something that made you tremendously proud!" Madeleine insisted pigheadedly, narrowing her eyebrows.

"Urm, I can remember when I was fifteen-year-old, I stood for one girl, who was criminally bullied by her peers as I kicked the bullies in the groins!"

"See?" Meanwhile, his broad, muscly shoulders shrugged at her jubilant yelling, spreading her forearms triumphiantly, smugly grinning at him, followed with it's the richest undertones chuckle. "You stood for a poor young lady that was bullied by a horde of jackass imbeciles! You did a brilliant job for standing for her." He joined her in the chuckle's symphony. "I resurrected your light, true side instead of your guilty one, Timothy! I sentenced the guilty side of yours to death, because it doesn't deserve to make you suffer for years without doing anything about the question to get rid off the past."

\- _2 Hours Later or So_ -

Once Madeleine and Timothy finished drinking their coffees in almost the wee hours of the evening, the once holy priest drove his friend to the hospital where Jude and Edward were hospitalized, recovering the from the car crash's brutal injuries.

As soon as they arrived in the grandiose, old facility to receive more news even pay a visit to the injured victims of the road accident from the last night, their shoes clicked against the lobby's flooring, ambling up to the receptionist's desk unhesitantly, emphatically to violate to one of the doctors' baleful cautions from earlier today.

"Good day, ma'am and sir! What I can help with?" Another young nurse was replacing her own colleague for the night shift.

"We're looking for Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard as they're supposed to be still recovering from the car crash that befell them the last night." The Michiganian's witty reply made the slightly older lady to slip her forefinger, surveying the receptionist's registry if Judy and Edward's names were scribbled somewhere as still hospitalized patients or otherwise they're already out of the hospital.

"Hold on a second, ma'am!" The juvenile nurse hummed absentmindedly to distract herself from the immense stress of hundreds of regular hospital visitors coming to her desk and inquiring her about the patients they'd like to visit for awhile. "J-Judy, Judy Martin!" Her lips trembled in spelling her melodious name by its rhyme, whilst the former saintly member of the church raised an arch of his eyebrow, rubbing with his pristinely dexterous fingers clumsily his temple. "E-Edward Ralph Howard!" She repeated to herself the name of the once hospitalized inmates, scanning the name of the patients until she noted the tick, marking them as released patients. "I'm afraid to tell you that they're released earlier tonight as they've fully recovered from the car accident's injuries."

"Is that true?"

"It's, Mister! I can say the mother of the child and he was escorted by an elder nun when they're on their own way to flee the hospital."


	17. So Far Away

**Author's Brief Note: In addition to for better atmosphere, the Spotify list for the 17th chapter of Wings of Light as the crucial song So Far Away by Anenged Sevenfold is recommended. The Stotify playlist for the 17th chapter can be listened here: ** playlist/2y8DEixciyBS1dETodbtSP

**P.S: I hope you like and enjoy the new chapter! **

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

_"The incarnation of me is going to have multiple faces, not just one with the dark, neat suits, the cleanly shaven face and the cologne! The old I is going to be just a mirage for everybody very soon. But for my enemies, it's a surprising nemesis for them!"_

_"It's so strange to be friends since you've a baby and I'm sure it necessitates a lot of care over it."_

_"It requites a lot of care, of course! And it's normal the friends to have their own children. Don't get me wrong, Roman! I know for example my old friends from Scotland, Maria and Noah had adopted their own child and they're astonishing parents without any doubt. They once dated and they just preferred to stay as friends and take care of innocent, wretched souls from the orphanages even adopting their own child."_

_"Dr. Grimes, I'll be fine without sleep! Thank you for your kindness, but I don't need anything to reassure me unless I see Judy or Edward awake."_

_"You can come over my office to have a fresh, hot cup of coffee and take a break from your worries, okay? It surprises me how you agreed this time."_

_"Alright, Jude! All I need is to give me a sign whenever you're ready with the pushes. Okay?_

_"Don't ya ever dare to kiss me or do anything with me, asshole! I fucking swear ya will regret it once the child emerges."__  
_

_"Timothy? What's this place? Why I'm here?"_

_"You had an accident the last night and the news said it, mentioning about the taxi driver passing away shortly after. I thought and I was so scared to lose you once I acknowledged your disappearance even more when the breaking news was a nightmare for listening. I hope it won't happen."  
_

_"What is unfair, Tim?"  
_

_"It's unfair how when something isn't alright, we spent like more time and being deadly concerned as if it's going to be the last time seeing or witnessing it than when it's fine from everywhere. It's just the same with the people. I more cared about Jude when she wasn't on her feet after I got her out of Briarcliff than when she was an administrator of the institution and a madwoman."_

_"We're looking for Judy Martin and Edward Ralph Howard as they're supposed to be still recovering from the car crash that befell them the last night."_

_"Hold on a second, ma'am! J-Judy, Judy Martin! E-Edward Ralph Howard! I'm afraid to tell you that they're released earlier tonight as they've fully recovered from the car accident's injuries."_

An hour later after the former devotional woman of the cloth was resigned from the facility after recovering in no time along with her ray of sunshine from the road accident's morbid injuries, the elder woman of the cloth paid a visit to the Vermont hospital by seeing her own former protégé with her ray of sunshine and getting a train for Connecticut.

As Jude and Mother Claudia shared a wagon together, Edward rested peacefully as a nestled bird in its own nest, built by rich pile of straw, calling it its own home. Warmness and love, fusing as one smeared invisibily its essence in the nest. The both ladies seated against each other, sharing a handful of inches.

The night was approaching and the incessant buzzing of the train engine was somewhat obnoxious for the blonde. Sunset's prospect nuances of peach orange and pink tinged the darkening sky. The moon rise hovered gradually in the sky's prospect.

The young boy has already been nursed shortly after getting the train for Connecticut and thereafter fell asleep within seconds.

The train for Connecticut didn't have galore of passengers since it remained less than a week up to St. Valentine.

When the former pious sister of the church resigned from the hospital as they have transmitted her with a wheelchair up to the exit and thereafter in the taxi, she was donned in the same attires which she wore until the road accident. Perhaps midnight black ankle boots, shoeing her petite, flimsy feet. Silver huggies earrings, pierced into her earlobes as icycles. Long chestnut brown pantaletot, matching with her midnight black mini skirt as its hem flared like bonfire across her midthighs, exposing majorly her leanly drop-dead gorgeous, long as towers legs. Dark stockings shed as a snake skin her legs. White wool sweater hugging exquisitely her torso as wool armor underneath her chestnut pantaletot and additionally contouring definedly the roundness, fullness of her sore, vaguely limping breasts. Black and white beret capped her crunchy long mop of sleek old Hollywood gilded tresses, framing ideally her pale as egg, porcelain complexion. She looked beautiful, regardless in her former mentor's eyes, Madeleine, Timothy or Frank.

"It's exhausting how long we should travel up to Connecticut." A heavy sigh flushed from her constricted chest, baptized in bruises and mauve tints, rocking lightly the cradled nest of her little bird. Her naturally rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips parted in an unexplainable pout, transfixing her encumbered with dead weight almost blinking caramel brown orbs on the window as the sufficiently high speed of the train passed like fog the abundance of trees, bushes and plants, christened in snow. "Especially with a train from Vermont."

"Don't be that worried, my child! It's just within eleven hours until we're in Connecticut." The older lady's optimism and realism feudened in her assurance as a slight, sympathetic smile danced across her lips. Her winter blue orbs lowered to the kipping almost five-month-old infant, unable to control the angles of her lips' corners, constricting her jaw line. "I didn't mean to be brash, Jude, but you're a strong woman and you don't complain even for the pettiest things. You're a warrior." The senior holy woman emphasized the last sentences emphatically as her fingers which were fixing her dark wimple, were crafting the adjustment of the wimple.

Vague nod in agreement by the younger woman was followed by pursed lips in dissatisfaction.

"It's completely different when yar a mother of a child, no matter if yar in yar 20s or 40s, Mother Superior! I'd rather be somewhere with Edward by that time where it doesn't take long to travel but I've to cope with the consequence of this train for almost a half a day." The middle-aged woman snapped with mild nag at her own former mentor, opting to control her decibels and the true colors of her utterance. "I wanted to be at home after the car accident, but no. Instead, I coped with staying for hours in the hospital to recover by that time with my son and got visited twice by Timothy." In the meanwhile, incredulity adumbrated Mother Claudia's elderly facial features at the mention of the British compatriot's name as if Jude worshipped yet as a Saint her ex-boss. Truthfully, even if he was her boss or ex-boss, she loved him and she was grateful for everything he did for her, in spite of her selfishness and ungratitude at first. That was something obnoxious for the elder holy woman. Regardless, how many times she stood for her own ex-protégé and after she's being dumped as a piece of trash by her nowadays alleged boyfriend who's now the father of their love child and with whom Jude has great chances to get back together as more than just lovers for the rest of her days by depending of their decisions which spoke volumes, Mother Claudia could scarcely trust any word of the younger lady about the British compatriot. Little did she know how he changed drastically from the self-centered, selfish, ambitious and tremendously stubborn priest into a selfless, loving, caring family man that's family oriented more than about his own celestial, unbelievable dreams.

"I absolutely understand the situation with the child, however, I'd like to know what's that mania over Timothy since you've mentioned his name a few times up to now." In spite of the diplomacy and understanding of her own ex-mentor, nevertheless, what it vexed the Bostonian was that the veteran nun showed signs of hostility when it comes up to the former aspiring Monsignor's name, her epidermis crabbed in goosebumps as if a cat's fur hairs bristled after noting a danger that approaches his territory and it's literally either another cat or a stray or somebody's dog. She perfectly knew her and Timothy altogether, regardless the circumstances and having always the chance to cry on Mother Claudia's shoulder as she did so as Timothy was her another hope. "Tell me why you act or mention his name as if he's a saint and you worshipped him as much as before even more." Disbelief in the recent reunion with her was far from a warm welcome for the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer. She could perfectly comprehend whether disquietude or trials which were almost defeating her to overcome with something soothing and encouraging for her former protégé. Howsoever, the difference was obnoxiously huge and that was a matter of question how the former sleazy nightclub singer is going to owe her explaination as first and foremost, she allowed her cells to sort her mind for a rational, nonetheless sincere response to the posed question.

"Mother, he changed for better! He's not the man yar eyes claim to see as mirages." Benevolently persuading smile flourished on her rosy-coloured, full shaped lips, whereas Claudia arched an eyebrow at Jude's words. Scarcely any modicum of belief tattooed her wrinkled, pale as oyster complexion. "I know him very well for these years as we both have been through a lot than my words could even describe. Not only he helped me to give a birth to our ray of sunshine as I'm luckier than anything to have both of them especially the thing that I graced our small family, moreover he gave me home. I've everything I'd dream of as a young woman. I'm loved and I'm happy with everything I've. I've my own job that I work with pleasure." Meantime, Claudia swallowed hard at Jude's words, barely believing they're approaching the realism even they're parallel to everything that's far from the sugarcoated lies.

"You have right, my child! So as I know both of you pretty well, I think he's bad intentions as well. Do not get hooked on the fish too quickly! He's fishing for your trust so that somehow to take away Edward from you by blinding you again with his manipulative intentions and eventually you lose everything. Your home. Your son. Literally everything that satisfied you." All of a sudden, the blonde narrowed her eyes at her mentor balefully, chewing on her lower plumpish lip, cradling gently her baby boy. "The priests are hypocrites." She felt vulnerable when Mother Claudia concluded her point of view on the former man of the cloth with hardly having any mercy and the chance to sugarcoat anything, instead by darting it as a straightforward arrow. The British compatriot was nothing, compared to the cliché that was portraying the men of the cloth. It was true Timothy was blinded and manipulated to bones by manipulatively vile people like Arden and the devil that lived in the young, flexible sister of the church until her death even the murderous Santa Claus, Leigh Emerson. Not every man of the cloth was a hypocrite, in the Bostonian's humble opinion. "He will be back in the church one day and pursue his dream as a Cardinal and afterwards a Pope."

"Don't be silly, Mother! He finally made his final decision what he truly wants for the rest of his days and he namely has chosen the family over the holy priorities." The once holy nun's lips wiped off the smile within a split second by replacing it with an unwelcoming, coldhearted frown as if she played the role of an adolescent, whose mother warns her about her first ever boyfriend whom she hangs out in high school about the consequences that await her within a few weeks and she just sits, facing the stern and overprotective side of her mother. "He'd do anything for me and Edward to be safe and happy. Not every priest is a hypocrite, first and foremost. Second, he stood for me always. Always!" Apocalyptic emphasis was vomited in the last 2 sentences as vigilance.

"You just can't change your opinion drastically or like on five minutes as if he's the worst foe of yours and a few minutes later, you're like soulmates. It's incredibly odd, Jude! I'm trying to protect you from eventual dangers." In the interval, the middle-aged mother's heart sunk in the depths of the inescapable misty ocean of the heartbreaks and sorrow. How could Mother Superior be that overprotective especially talking to her as if she's a naïve and blunt teenager rather than an independent and wise adult? The middle-aged mother somewhat comprehended the intentions of the senior sister of the church, who's always been like her mother figure to advice her and protect her from any kind of hazards as a last hope, whenever nobody stood for her except Mother Claudia, herself. Soreful pain and heartache numbed the glee and radiance as colliding asteroids into the planets in the Solar System, destroying the planets to basics. Mother Claudia would regret if her advice was overlooked and afterwards being assimilated after everything ends by ending as right and Jude proving wrong each detail of her changed life. She didn't have any intentions of seeing her former protégé hurt ever again. She'd deeply self-criticize for not being listened to earlier unless the requiem's cliffhangers are actually sung and the blonde following meekly her advice without having any intentions of disagreeing.

"It took us almost 5 months to recover from the pain, sorrow and mess! Don't ya think it was easy for him to tolerate my coldness, stubbornness and my fear of rejection? Huh?" Cold coughing scratched her tongue tip, slyly earning Claudia's prompt attention to warily listen to each word. "He did it even as the toughest task for him. Challenging himself to tolerate my stubbornness, coldness and fears, because he cares about me and he's really loyal. Let me get this straight, Mother Superior," A sharp exhale flushed from her chest, whereas the elder nun didn't peel a single word, in order to cut her off curtly with contempt and disrespect. "He's a man with feelings, his own needs and emotions. He isn't a robotic priest, donned in the miserable cloth of chastise and holiness at all. Ya can really tell secretly, he's been hiding into his eyes for months even for years during his priesthood, ya know." Her tongue clicked tauntingly, wittily, whereas the younger woman's hazelish-brown irises lowered to the infant as a smoothingly radiant smile blurred her lips, afterwards drifting her gaze to the older woman's azure blue irises, shadowed in trustlessness. "Ya really can tell he's been hiding something nothing than desirable which he longed for years and years without success unless devoting himself to the miserable church to conceal his secret desires. For example family, children and friends would be his top priorities secretly even as a man of the cloth, despite he didn't have any time for all this. And if it wasn't me, who got him in the right path by having this ray of sunshine and before that, meeting each other back in St. Andrew's church back on the day when we met," Temporal pause of her monologue budded a lump in her dry throat, swallowing it. "He'd be now already a Cardinal and fighting for the Pope's position eagerly until he achieves it. He wouldn't have a baby and an old supportive friend like me who helped him to achieve a lot but the golden dreams as they've lost its valuable significance."

Silence arched between the both women as Mother Claudia was beyond dumbfound by her own protégé's speechless words that laced her tongue as serpentine venom, spitting on its current victim as scorpio stings' venom. Widening her sapphire blue orbs in disbelief and obfuscation, biting her upper lip.

"I just realize it now all this, Mother Superior. That he had his own secrets which he's never shared with anyone else due to abstinence or rather keeping them for himself unless somebody raises the topic." Her temple creased, furrowing as an eagle her eyebrows, smirking smugly, slyly at her. "Everybody has secrets even if they don't share it with the rest of the world even with their closest people from their inner circle until they opened themselves about them." Ruddiness tinted her cheeks, nuking the facial skin with warmness at the beamness of her smirk and her words that spoke volumes along with her manners and body language. "And I guess he knew my secrets which have to do with him! And he's afraid to expose them, of course, unless the business was done and we played our own cards right."

"I truly understand what he's done for you for these five months but what I can advise you is to be careful once aga-" In the interval, Claudia cautioned until her former protégé snapped at her curtly as irritation swamped the pit of her stomach.

"I'm careful, Mother! Ya must see him in person instead of judging him behind his back. That's abjectly abomination!"

\- _Flashback_ -

\- _13th __of March, 1959_ -

_Heavy rain poured in Boston's outskirts, reckoning the church St. Andrew. Three nuns were gathered in the church's yard since the Mother Superior called them urgently as they'd a special guest, having intentions of joining the St. Andrew's church with only one right hand by his side after the introduction._

_The wee days of the spring were approaching way too soon along with the dying winter days, in spite of the common chilly climate for Boston during the late winter days and the the early spring ones, feudening as magnets' oppositions._

_The wee hours of the morning were less embracing than the weather and the meeting with the aspiring priest._

_Mary Eunice, Jude and Lauren were sorted by their real ages as Mary Eunice was the youngest, scarcely seventeen-year-old young woman, whereas Jude was actually almost forty and the eldest woman of the cloth, who's part of the Holy Trinity ensemble was in the beginning of her fifties._

_A dark cab parked past the alabaster monumental statue as a masculine face was driving the vehicle until the monotonous cab's engine stopped its buzz in a halt, drawing every sister of the church's attention promptly. The British compatriot got from the vehicle, locking it up by ambling up to the waiting beehive of holy women, a sheepishly affable smile formed on his baby pinkish lips. Agitation and uneasiness pumped not only into his veins, moreover into the holy women'. The youngest and the oldest woman of the cloth didn't seem distract by his youthfulness and charm, oozing of him as an erupting volcano. It was the former licentious jazz nightclub singer, who rather found herself distracted and taunted sinfully by him. In the corner of her citrine brown pool she could scan every inch behind his tall figure. Clothed in a charcoal black blazer and trousers, followed by a midnight black sweater with white shirt's collars underneath it. Midnight black oxfords. His mysteriously muscular body was donned in the cloth of chastise as a holy armor. His pale skin tone tinged his muscular body structure. Cocoa brown orbs, dappled with benevolence and sinlessness hues them, glimmering with the warmest cocoa brown._

_"Good day, Father! It's an enormous honor to meet you!" The elder member of the clergy offered her petite, milky as lilly hand for a formal handshake, meeting his soothing cocoa brown eyes._

_"Good day, Mother Superior! It's Father Timothy Howard!" In the meanwhile, the most juvenile nun poked with her elbow her mentor's forearm, drawing her attention in no time, whispering between each other comments before Timothy's introduction. "Good day, sisters! I couldn't be more grateful and honored by Mother Superior, who brought me here. I'm actually Father Timothy Howard or rather Monsignor Howard." An abrupt exhaled flushed the blonde's chest, shuddering bashfully her shoulders as goosebumps mapped her epidermis beneath the itchy, unconvenient wool habit's sleeves. "I'm actually a priest with two homelands as my top priorities are not only raising in the church as the first ever Anglo-American Pope, furthermore helping the society to find path to light and God after being trapped in unholy darkness._ _I believe the tonic for a diseased mind lies in the three P's: productivity, prayer and purification.__" Meanwhile, the blonde couldn't resist the new Monsignor's charm, nibbling on the silken skin of her bottom lip, listening attentively each word of his even when the girlish uneasiness enveloped her heart in the bows of shyness and the unavoidable physical attraction at first sight she'd for him._

_As soon as the British aristocrat finished with his brief self-promotion, he started to handshake with Mary Eunice. The handshake they exchanged wasn't on high level enough especially according to the holy man's requirements. Too meek. Too soft. Far from showing any allusions of authority and power. Throughout it was highly far from apparent that Mary Eunice wouldn't be Timothy's chosen right hand or at least, partner in accomplishing sacred missions they're sent to fulfill._

_When he moved on the next woman of the cloth, he shook the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's petite, milky-white hand into his larger, amusingly warm._

_"It's a pleasure, Sister Jude. Monsignor Timothy Howard!" __ Professionalism in his mellow voice accentuated his formal greeting to the older woman as they didn't break off the eye contact immediately. Megawatt smile jolted upon their faces as their cheeks powdered foggily sanguine. Their hearts raced in a choir along with the paradoxal paroxysm and shivers, sedating her bones and muscles by sending them to her body of sweetness, pleasure and slight embarrassment._

_"It's mine pleasure, Father Howard. Sister Jude Martin!" __The Bostonian introduced herself, bobbing humbly her head. Once they had the chance to exchange a handshake, she felt like a lost little girl in the profound woods without an escape at all. Anyway they opted to not admire one another's natural and yet youthful beauty. In Jude's case, Timothy's youthful handsomeness, contouring his profile such as facial features, his elegant chestnut haircut and his alleviatingly balmy cocoa brown irises, reckoning his benevolent smile, kissing his berry-coloured lips. Or rather in Timothy's case, admiring the older woman's hints of handful of stray, wild aureate strands, uncoiffed in the ecclesiastical dark wool wimple, besides her deep, brutally honest honey brown orbs, her megawatt and kindhearted smile and the elderly mesmerizing facial features._

_Shortly before the holy man moved on the imminent sister of the church, they looked up at one another's parchment, still young-looking complexions, incapable of moping off their idiotic, beaming smiles from them with an ease. Warmness absorbed their palms until he released her hand from his by moving on Sister Lauren to shake her hand. Desperation and jealousy peppered the Bostonian's hazelish-brown irises. Desperation, in fact, the both members of the clergy no longer shared the physical warmness and physical contact that they shared for awhile, pettering out the nervousness from her. Jealousy, factly, he was handshaking with Sister Lauren and Sister Lauren wasn't very fond of Jude and vice versa. Further, the both pious holy women were rivaling even when Mother Claudia suffered between them, attempting to find a diplomatic way to not allow them feudening one another._

_Howsoever, the handshake between Lauren and Timothy was far from mousily docile. Far from soft. Far from showing any modicum of mercy. Compared to her rival, it was morbidly authorative even crossing its moderate borders._

_\- __End of Flashback__ -_

_"Jude? Jude?" In the interval, the elder woman of the cloth snapped her former protégé out of her reverie numbering her catnap. A sharp exclaimation pinched partly her eyelids opening as blinds._

_"M-Mother Claudia? What time is now?" The younger woman's question tingled in a whimpering stutter, rocking lovingly her son by shooting a glance at him to check on him, in case, if he's peckish again and feeling well. Her voice was pretty apparent she's still sleepy and the nap has highly affected her voice decibels, possessing the energy of a mindless zombie at the moment. Then her honey brown orbs met the nocturnal prospect of the yet railing train vagon. The nocturnal prospect of the luxurious beehive of palish shimmering stars, outnumbering the sole round, blanched moon persuaded her the current time was between eight and evelen o'clock in the night. Blurriness danced under her eyes, obscuring her vision. "I see I've been asleep for more than two hours."  
"It's almost ten o'clock in the night. It's normal to fall asleep in the train, dear child!" The older woman attempted to reassure the Bostonian by managing in a lift her petite, wrinkled hand, squeezing playfully her forearm without losing control to drop accidentally her ray of sunshine. "Not every train journey can keep you awake."_

_"It's true." Light, meek nodding affirmed her words in a strong, firm agreement without hesitancy. "It scares me Edward hasn't been awake for a few hours, crying out loud for being fed."_

_"Probably he isn't hungry. He is just as sleepy as you, Jude!" The memories of the reverie that dwelled her out of the reality, subsequently dwelling in the dreams' realm by tinting her train of thoughts with her first encounter with the aspiring Monsignor brought her an unknowledgable content smile, flexing her jaw line. The warmness into the most soothing, warmest chocolate brown pools, transfixed on her caramel brown pools. The benevolent, purely innocent smile that's been ever offered to her. A blush touching their cheeks. The alleviating, platonic squeeze of his mammoth, amusingly warm hand. The physical contact with hands was sufficiently enticing for her. Bringing her the remarkable first memories Jude has ever had with the once holy man. "Jude?" The distraction of the reverie was succumbing her cells, catching her off guard with the suddenness of Mother Claudia's retaliation, tingling her petite, sensitive ears._

_"H-Huh? Yes, Mother Superior?" The middle-aged woman's rosy-coloured lips parted in the stutter, verging to fall asleep even if it's almost midnight and the train engine's buzzing inhibited her bones, muscles even building bricks of ounce in her eyelids, beneath them as additional façade to ease her eventual next catnap. "I'm sorry for being pretty distracted. I'm just so sleepy and I'm so exhausted even after being hospitalized."_

_"No need to apologize, darling! You deserve to rest until the train journey is over and we arrive in Connecticut." Velvetness lulled the former pious sister of the church, rocking continuously her son just before falling asleep due to the natural weariness though she feared of her son to wake her up anytime for breastmilk and interrupt her slumber. "I assure you when Edward wants to be feed, you won't miss to nurse him."_

_"Of course!" Suddenly the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's head collapsed on the seat's pillow, muffling a faint, mellow snore which was solely distinctive for her ex-mentor and herself._

\- _The Next Day_ -

\- _9th of February, 1966_ -

The next day in Vermont almost crept with struggle since the British compatriot was home alone and his small family was in Connecticut for a few days to see Mother Claudia. Anyway the former police officer invited his old friend in his own property to share a beer party by themselves hours after finishing his night shift on the parking lot as a security guard.

At first, Timothy thought it was far from sober decision of Frank inviting him in the wee hours of the noon since he must collect good sleep after spending timeless hours on the parking lot in midnight up to six o'clock in the morning as a security guard. Even trying to fill the holes of the void and loneliness were inexorably impossible unless Jude and Edward were back in Vermont.

As soon as the British compatriot stepped beside the two-story after towering the threshold stone stairs, his mammoth, veiny hand fashioned in a fist rapped politely, featherly on the front door, keeping the owner's wits about his invited guest's presence.

"Just a second, Tim!" The older man grunted a cautioning evoke by opening the living room's window curtains to be bathed in a fresh, daylight light, filtering through the flimsy glasses of the window. Afterwards his masculine, heavy steps scurried from the living room up to the hall by unlocking in a single click the front door until he was met with the former priest's presence. An instant blissful, warmwelcoming grin brushed his berry-coloured lips. "Tim! Hi, buddy!"

"Hi, Frank! It's nice to see you." Meantime, the British aristocrat set a foot in the corridor by kicking off his shoes and unclasping from his muscly, strong arms his winter coat by hanging it on the coat hanger.

"It's nice to see ya too, Tim! I can see ya have got rid off yar shoes and I can offer ya damn convenient slippers." Meanwhile, he shut the front door smugly by finding a comfortable pair of fuzzy slippers for Timothy, handing them as he hopped up in them immediately.

"Thanks! So in the kitchen we're going to drink beers."

"Yeah! Follow me." The former cop ordered affably, nudging his guest as the both men walked in the kitchen as the younger one seated on the kitchen table, tipping fidgetly his pristinely long, masculine fingers on the kitchen table's blanket. "I have a few beers I can offer ya. Conehead, Yellow Dot, Prospect and Second Fiddle. Which one?" He enquired, opening the refrigerator by snatching one beer can Second Fiddle for himself.

"Yellow Dot!" Hesitantly, Timothy's tongue conjugated one of the beer brands' names which he mindly wanted to savor as a beer brand, regardless how inexperienced he's in the alcohol since he's devoted himself in priesthood in his young adulthood. Abstinence by bundling in the covers of the forbidden the alcohol, sex, family, lovers and the mere lifestyle. "You're so kind, Frank!" In the meanwhile, the widower handed the beer can to his guest after closing the refrigerator's door, winking at him gamely, amicably as the both men were already sitting on the dining table.

"Yeah, yeah! I've been told so many times I'm so kind by Jude." The both men opened their own beer cans within a split second as the plastics clinked together in raising a toast. "Let's raise a beer toast for the men's beer party!" Quiet, jubilant giggles dripped from their tongues as swallowed sands.

"Cheers!" Throughout they gulped a few tiny sips from their own beers by leaving them aloof on the kitchen table. Timothy's youthful, parchment complexion grimaced haphazardly after savoring the bitter, unusual Yellow Dot's first sips. The former policeman's crystalline orbs, fueled with steady friendliness and radiance mottling his grizzly-sapphire orbs, predominating the sapphire hues. Playful grin danced across his damp, beer-stained lips.

"Ya seem disliking alcohol, Tim!" In the interim, the former devotional member of the clergy shook his head in dithering disagreement. "Oh! Then yar a novice in the alcohol." Emphasis lingered on Frank's tongue.

"I just don't drink usually alcohol and since joining the priesthood, I haven't savored any quantity of it."

"Oh, yar a damn good liar, Tim! I'm sure before yar adulthood or priesthood ya have drunk at least one beer can or a glass of wine at least once in yar life." Scoff parted the older man's pale-pinkish lips, cheerful snigger scratching his throat as the younger man joined him. "Be certainly honest!"

"I can admit I've drunk a few glasses of red wine before joining the priesthood by solemnly taking my vows." He gripped the pleasantly chilly by cooling his fingers beer can, sipping it by wiping his beer-stained lips with the back of his hand politely. Meanwhile, dew of generous layer of beer was mopped with the motion of his tongue, licking the bitter moistness. "Especially on Christmas and certain special Christian holidays even dinners."

"I see! I told ya the lies can't get away with yar drinking experience. I bet ya were tipsy." The security guard patted the dining table, shooting the mockery as a punchline of the joke.

"Not at all! I have never been tipsy. I can confess I drank a bit communion wine on one of the coq-au-vin dinners with Jude when she used to be a nun."

"Ha! See? The priests aren't that honest." At the moment, Frank clapped his both veiny, colossal hands in a triumphant applaud, cheering over his old frenemy's confession. "Just kidding, pal! Everybody has drunk once even being tipsy at young age ever in his own damn life. But I bet ya aren't very fond of the alcohol."

"Somewhat! But I think the alcohol is suitable for certain occasions. Especially special ones."

"Very good point, Tim! I really like by the way you think." The widower backed him up strongly without disagreeing with any point of his as the former religious man of the cloth suckled on his lower plumpish lip. "But I've been always curious what made ya to join the priesthood before. I mean what struck ya about this celibacy and being nobody else than a slave to the church and its diocese system."

"That's a really tough question, Frank! But it's a long story. This chapter of my life is already closed but I can freely talk about it with certain people, who've enthusiasm to discover my motives joining the church." Sharp exhale flushed his nose, chewing on his lower lip. The truth was eventually that the former cop's enthusiasm to discover the rise in diocese of Timothy even his genuine motives to be the first Anglo-American Pope in the history were the top topics which aroused his ginormous, childlike curiosity. Anyway the British aristocrat profoundly regretted for joining the church at fragile, early age by taking solemnly his vows to guard himself against the demons after violating the life's pleasures. What he yearned more than anything was creating his own family and having his own children much earlier by fleeing at the moment he laid eyes on Jude initially in St. Andrew's church. Little did he know what the church may award him for his hard work through the years of celibacy and without breaking his took vows. What it was obscurely evident was that the church granted him nothing than years of wasted time and a big trouble. "I remember when I were a foolishly in love adolescent at age sixteen back in the old high school days, one girl from my the school really struck me. She was with almost a year younger than me. She was so sweet, kindhearted and undeniably beautiful. She was astonishingly smart too. I remember her name was Dana." The hazy memories of his high school years and his first ever girlfriend which wasn't actually serious at all swamped rueful swamp in the pit of his stomach for starting dating girls at age 16 and regretting his decision. What it struck the British aristocrat was how vivid were certain memories even in the hazy ocean of memories and thoughts, pooling his mind. The widower nodded excitedly, paying utterly attention to his monologue, gulping a handful of sweet chugs from Second Fiddle's can. "She wasn't very rich girl, but for unknown reason she's dating me, in fact, I'm originating from a wealthy family from London. I wasn't a ladykiller at all back then. I was just myself. I recall her words, resulting her reason why she's next to me for almost a half a year without thinking twice to leave me. Dana appreciated my goodwill and intelligence. We went to cinema and on hikes many times. Dana thought I was a good kisser."

"Good kisser!" Blatant guffaw bleated the widower's throat, slapping his thigh as a sailor after getting the punchline of the joke. "Man, this girl wasn't exactly for ya, I can really tell! Good kisser isn't even a flirt." In the meanwhile, Timothy rolled his cocoa brown eyes, grimacing his face as the contour of his face altered within a few moments.

"I haven't even finished my story!" Calm, opting to not show any signs of anger caution tingled Frank, putting him on the right place in no time as a meek, soft stray puppy. "And one day as I had an appointment with Dana to watch another film together, I caught her kissing with one of her best friends in front of me as I tried to confront her best friend, despite she denied than they're just friends. They're more than friends and I found myself heartbroken even if I wasn't supposed to, in fact, I was just young and it was my first unserious love of my life." Abrupt exhale flushed his toned chest, playing absently with the plastic beer can as his cold, clammy fingertips lingered on the plastic material. "My older brothers tried to comfort me along with my parents. My sister Anna was just slightly younger about thirteen years old only and she could barely understand anything about the teenage love. My older brothers have been through the same stuff like me when they're adolescents. They had unserious girlfriends, who didn't deserve any quantity of their time eventually. Anyway John, my older sibling, found his true love at age 17 and they're now happily married up to nowadays with 3 lovely children."

"Damn Dana! Screw her for cheating on ya back then!"

"At first, I was tremendously hurt but therefore I didn't care anymore. It was over."

"What about the priesthood, Tim? I think ya almost forgot to talk about the beloved priesthood." The single father emphasized in a jeer,swigging in a couple of more sips his beer can, emptying it momentarily as Timothy widened his chocolate brown irises in awe. He was beyond in awe by Frank's versatile swiftness in drinking alcoholic beverages even the weakest alcohol. The beer.

"I haven't forgotten about the priesthood, Frank! I can remember after I finished my university education as my parents and siblings weren't on the same opinion as mine to join the church and taking my vows without breaking them until whenever I decide to resign from the diocese." The younger man's front ivory, still firm for his age teeth nibbled on the delicate skin of his lower lip, consequently suckling it as a bloodthirsty vampire, seeking nothing else than blood to keep his stamina stable as longer. "My parents and siblings had enormous hopes and they eventually saw a great potential in me to become one of the most influential Latin teachers in England or rather, a writer. Of course, I disagreed with them and I couldn't imagine myself as a Latin teacher in the schools or as a writer, writing abundance of books which may become best-sellers one day!"

"It's okay to have disagreements with yar family on certain topics as I can understand ya can differ from what yar family can actually see in you as a potential." At the moment, the former policeman got from the kitchen table by throwing in the trash bin his emptied beer can and resitting on the table again. "For example, my both brothers as one of them was younger than me, whilst the other one was older than both of us have actually joined in the vicious battles of World War 2 even when shortly before my father passed away. Do you think my dying father along with my still alive mother were totally okay my brothers to go fight for our country? Huh?" His muscular, broad shoulders shrugged at the somber memory of losing his both brothers after sacrificing themselves for the freedom in World War 2. The British aristocrat cleared sheepishly, gruffily his throat. "Even when they killed some Nazi piece of shits, they were brutally murdered and I lost them back in the spring of 1944. Just a year before the World War was over. My parents also disagreed when I participated to fight for my country in the war but I really screwed the enemies, you know! But once the nightmare was over and their gooses were cooked, thus my parents were tremendously proud of me for standing for our country and peace's interests even when they're quite afraid of losing their only son as there's going to be no man in the McCann family after my father's death." The former holy man bobbed his head, attentively listening each pelt word by sipping of his Yellow Dot, licking greedily his lips. "Sometimes yar parents or whoever disagrees with ya from yar family hasn't got the right to control yar life. Yar an individual, Tim! With yar own feelings, needs, emotions and dreams. Never allow somebody to let ya down just because yar dreams seem unachievable in their humble opinions."

"I feel so bad for your deceased brothers. I hope they're on better place now, secured by God and his light in heaven as angels, watching over you, Frank! And your father too!" Ruefully vague smile blurred the security guard's lips. "But back to the topic, I listened to my own wishes instead my family'. I started reading the Bible at age eight as a student in primary school. My monstrous interest in the priesthood birthed back in my adolescence by re-reading the Bible many times and reading a lot of foreign including English literature." The smile was replaced with wedged lips in a pensive, attentive purse. "My parents were enough religious to attend the local church for prayers, Christmas and Easter. They weren't as religious as me for heir, coming from a wealthy English family, they insisted my future depending also in sortation of the heirs by having my own children and wife in subsequence my parents having grandchildren. At least, they've only one child from me right now even if they don't know it. I joined formally the church after finishing the university education. I wanted to numb the heartbreak and the call of the life for lovers, friends and family by taking a vow. The English church wasn't a big potential for me to rise in the diocese at all." All of a sudden, the middle-aged man got from the kitchen table again by gathering an unused glass, turning the faucet for cool, fresh water, pooling the glass until he resat on the dining table again without peeling a single word. "I learnt that a half a decade later as I moved in a much different country by making me a former priest with two home lands. St. Andrew's church awaited for me as I joined it shortly after turning 30."

"Whoa! Ya were pretty young when ya became a priest, Tim!" Agape mouth flexed Frank's jaw in initial disbelief, scratching with his short fingernails his grizzly scalp. "And I can finally see why ya resigned from the church almost a half a year ago."

"The biggest mistake or regret for every person, no matter if they're adolescents or young adults is making their final decision to become nuns or priests just after they left high school or the university. It's just a joke to become a nun or a priest at age 18 for example. It's like a mockery with your life and your future plans as well." Timothy's advice floated from his pale-pinkish, beer-stained lips as an announcement to the entire city for evacuation due to an occurred disaster. "You have enough matured as a young adult, however, example a few years later regretting choosing actually this over something else. It's like a waste of time not only with the jobs, but also with your life decisions and the tattooes even if I'm not very fond of the tattooes." An odd quirk of the older man's thick, fluffy eyebrow matched with Timothy's opinion on the tattooes. "Well, as I mentioned the tattooes, my parents were strongly against and they threatened if somebody between Anna, me, John, Seth or Alexander is about to make a tattoo even after quitting their youth, they're no longer welcome to step in our property until their death. They considered the tattoo as a sin even if it's just an art piece of somebody's body. I didn't think like them at all. Even if I'm not a fan of the tattooes, at least, I won't be that baleful towards Edward when he grows up and matures as an individual."

"Oh whoa! Yar parents must be careful whose goose is going to be cooked once either of ya or yar siblings are about to have a tattoo, inked on their flesh." Frank raised his hands in defeat, gasping flabbergasted by Timothy parents' radical opinion on the ink on the body. "For example, Jude doesn't like tattooes but she hasn't got any problem Edward or if you've got the luck to have another child in the near future as only one God knows when they grow up one day in the future enough to make their own decisions to have their bodies inked."

"We shall see but I think Jude is happy enough with only one child for now!"

"Come on! Since ya had the luck to have Edward, why not having one more kid at least?"

"It's not only mine decision, Frank!" Wry, radiant grin bloomed on his yet young-looking complexion, sheening every facial feature, numbering his glowing, amiable warm chocolate brown irises.

Hours of train journey which was in general weary for the both women including the former members of the church's love child, they finally arrived in Connecticut as they have stepped in Mother Claudia's compact apartment. Jude spent a handful of minutes unpacking her baggage in the guests' room where she's going to share it with her own ray of sunshine, during her stay in Connecticut up to the wee hours of thirteenth of February's morning.

As soon as the middle-aged mother finished with unboxing her own baggage, she fed her son and rocked him back to slumber, covered under the warm quilt of the king-sized bed by taking a hot, refreshing shower.

Meantime, the senior woman of the cloth was in the kitchen was zapping the chicken soup she made a day ago since she's readily certain her ex-protégé was starving and she'd blame herself if her primary needs weren't fulfilled.

The flush of the running jet shower head of steamy, hot water pelted the blonde's hair as her halo ringlet of sleek old Hollywood gilded curls were tied in a high, casual messy bun as a fistful of wild strands framed her parchment, round profile. She relished the heavy rain, gaping through the shower head's holes jet water washing off the filth and grime of her alabaster skin as she didn't have a huge choice of soaps, sponges, body shower gel and shampoos. There were 2 from each of these categories.

The soaped sponge furbished the alabaster epidermis, restoring its glossiness with each furbish when the soaped sponge contacted her frail skeleton. Melodical, hedonick hum buzzed her soaked in water, rosy-coloured lips, floating in the bathroom's background as the eloquent song of the early morning chirping birds. Spume's structure overally lathered the former devotional nun as if her skeleton was part of the pathology's museum for educating the visitors.

"Jude, the lunch is already ready! It's served on the table." The senior woman of the cloth whimpered an announcement about the ready lunch after the younger lady dropped unintentionally the soaped sponge.

"Goddamn it!" The former woman of the cloth mumbled a mutter under her breath, solely distinctive for her, fortunately. "Just 5 more minutes, Mother Superior! I will be out of the bathroom very soon."

"Alright, Jude! You know, sweetheart, be quick, because the chicken soup is about to get cold." As she leant to pick up the soaped sponge, a couple of fingers managed to drift downward to her lower abdomen, featherly contacting the ends of her stretch marks and a scar after giving a birth to Edward as her fingertips were like whiskers, guiding her to the right area. They guided her to her bundle of nerves, whereas the jet water sluiced her waist. "And dear child, I've to apologize for yesterday during our train journey." Muffled light sigh flushed her nostrils after taking a puff at cigar, her fingertips beginning to work slowly and steadily on the bundle of nerves by stimulating them, commencing to cleanse any further train of thought except the crucial ones that resurface as icebergs, emburden her mind with dwelling in her fantasies' realm and freely, entirely allowing her imagination to function as a machine's engine. The pounding buzzing of her heart clobberating in her stark ribs cage as her armor was her slightly limp, nevertheless, still firm and round sore breasts that every woman's stark armor when she was as bare as Eve, inhabiting the Eden's gardens. All bare as a newborn baby. All bare as a God's real creation. All stark in a barren into God's widened eyes. "I didn't truly mean to talk all this about Timothy. I know how much you loved him since the first moment he's part of St. Andrew's church, but I hate seeing you hurt as a wounded hare." Silence floated as an answer as the words which almost stumbled on her tongue have already died on the back of the tongue, savoring the delicious hush of her side, her fingers stably kneading the hard, mauve clit as if it's her sole treasure she's ever possessed. "Jude?" The older lady attempted to catch her ex-protégé's attention due to the disturbing, eating silence, unable to slurp each luscious chunk of it.

"Huh? Yes, Mother Superior?" The blonde's suddenness of her jaded utterance kept Claudia's wits about her former protégé's presence as if she hadn't disappeared spontaneously. "I'm just listening and I thought ya haven't finished."

"Don't be sorry, Jude!"

"I'm forgiving ya for yesterday. That's simply forgiving as I truly appreciate how much ya want to protect me as yar own daughter and yar pure love for me, but thank ya anyway. I'm in safe and better hands." Her short message of gratitude was sufficiently elating for the Bostonian to soothe herself, reminding herself that she's in safe and better hands. In the interval, the revered holy woman was propping on the gilt-painted, old wall with a balled hand in a fist, thriving and watering as her own plant the smile.

"See you soon on the kitchen table, my child!" Then she rose by throwing back her head, arching her neck whilst the bundle of nerves coagulated with each light and rubbing motion of the fingers. Another curious, pleasuring hand pawed the roundness of her mildly limp breast, pressed as a button underneath her palm as it contacted the erected skin of her nipple, encircled by the mauve roundness of the areola. The explicitly graphic images of replacing her fingers with her love interest massaging her clit were enticingly tantalizing her, whilst her cupped breast being replaced with Timothy's mammoth, pristine hand kneading as dough the cleavage's flesh, appreciating and worshipping her feminine anatomy in canon. Muffled moans and groans dancing as a sloppy land, verging to pelt down its heavy weight haphazardly. Her rear grinding against his tight crotch, admiring the highly affected anatomy due to her seductress's art of flirt and seduction, poured in an entire masterpiece.

\- _A Couple of Days Later_ -

\- _13th of February, 1966_ -

The days didn't elapsed as swiftly as a light summer breeze. They scarcely crawled as snails out of their shells. It felt like forever until the day before the former nun and their ray of sunshine are going to flee Connecticut by getting back in Vermont.

Further, the both former members of the clergy have daily phoned twice each other as once they spent almost a whole hour of talking on the phone as if foolishly head over heels in love teenagers were phoning one another for hours, promising one another five more minutes and boom- ending spending hours in incessant chat even when responsibilities awaited them as uninvited guests.

Anyway during Jude and Edward's absence which was a tiny fact for today, Timothy decided to do some selfless, special shopping in Vermont's outskirts without even bothering to purchase a proposal ring and hiding it somewhere in the drawers unless his right hand and he are up to something romantic. More than just platonic. More than just an ordinary friendship. More than just friends with benefits. Not only a compact, prominent proposal ring with amethyst, moreover a grand, antique piano for the living room as the blonde can use it as a distraction, whenever she's out of responsibilities over the property whether in the motherhood or as a maid.

The vinyl's recorder needle was already set in the living room, spending hours effortly the former priest to disassemble to pieces the piano even the entire night dedicating his spare time after dinner and evening news in doing something else than just crawling in bed, pondering and contemplating blankly his blurry surroundings as demons.

"_Took a walk and passed your house late last night__! __All the shades were pulled and drawn way down tight__ f__rom within, the dim light cast two silhouettes on the shade__! __Oh, what a lovely couple they made__!_" Silhouette's song by Herman's Hermits was recently playing in the background, gnawing and opting to compensate the intense hours of silence in the two-story house.

Shortly after Timothy finished with disassembling the antique piano, it was finally able for being played on it as he sat on its stool, casting a glassily, restless gawk at the wall. It was already three o'clock in the morning. His mind was still working, functioning its buzzing engine as an echo. His eyelids almost blinked myriad of memorable memories, tinting his eyes. It wasn't just a year ago. It was a few years ago, taking its place in Jude's former austere office.

\- _Flashback _-

\- _A Couple of Months Ago_-

\- _13th of October, 1964_ -

_Heavy, incessant rain poured in Boston for a few hours. It didn't have any borderlines. It resembled God's lament over the humanity's destruction and Judgmental's day. The autumn's days elapsed normally._

_For unknown reason, the aspiring Monsignor was in his rare bird's office even if she wasn't there for awhile, due to an occurred turmoil in the common room. Beehive of rain drops clinked the closed windows of the old madhouse._

_Whilst the British compatriot's both mammoth, veiny hands pawed delicately the window's glasses with his fingertips for poise, agape mouth constricted his jaw, relishing the nature's natural beauty and true face when it's raining. Slight slice of a content, radiant smile sliced across his baby pinkish, dry lips. The luminuous reflection of the pouring rain silhouetted his cocoa brown pools._

_All of a sudden, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer entered discreetly back in her office which was oblivious for the British aristocrat, whose focus was utterly on the rain. Melodious, silver-tongued humming emanated behind him as if sirens boldly were calling and seducting sailors until they found their deaths in the depths of the ocean with their submerging corpses._

_"Monsignor-" Mellow Bostonian accent's muffled whisper made him hesitantly turn to the feminine figure, tiptoeing up to him effortlessly with her midnight black chunks. "It seems yar enthuasiased watching the rain."_

_"For sure, Jude!" Once his gaze shifted to hers, something distracted him, unable to avert his gaze right away. The wimple didn't coif any single long golden mop of curls. It was an absent element of her daily, working outfit. "But-" She cut him off curtly in his mid-sentence, stammer gnawing his tongue as the cataract of sleek old Hollywood aureate tresses cascaded her upper back as a golden, celestial cloak of the Demi-Gods._

_"But what, Timothy? Don't be afraid to spit out what's on yar mind rather than being in a big trouble for hiding the truth." The younger man bit his tongue reluctantly, bashfully at her words, gulping hard a formed lump in his throat, flexing his throat muscles._

_"N-Nothing!" In the meantime, she rummaged her cherry wood bureau's drawers for a cigarette pack with a lighter, whereas Timothy's head ducked boyishly until his stare met the offered cigarette for him. "Is that for me?"_

_"Why not? It's not forbidden for us, the nuns and priests to smoke a bit." Mischievously cocky grin smoothly sweeped upon her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion while the cigarette offer, unlocking her selfless, altruistic side of her nature. His muscular, strong shoulders shrugged at her offer as a dithering child, who little does know what his peers' intentions are whilst offering him to join their play. "It doesn't hurt to smoke and watch the rain in the same time, ya know!"_

_"I know! Thank you!" Timothy gladly accepted the offer as the cigar length gapped his berry-coloured lips, consequently the sister of the church lighted it up along with hers by taking a drags at their cigars, puffing a pasty dim._

_"I think the cigar is going to make ya spill the tea that was almost dying on yar tongue tip." Taunting scoff parted her rosy-coloured lips, propping her elbow that held the cigar length._

_"Where is your wimple, sister?" Heavy sigh surged from the top of the middle-aged woman's lungs as showerhead's running jet water, rolling her caramel brown pools at his enquiry._

_"It's just a hair, Timothy! It won't eat or hurt ya." Wry chuckle clicked the roof of her mouth by turning to look up at one another's faces, gaping at him whilst taking a drag of her cigarette slowly and sensually. "Is that what was distracting you actually?"_

_"Y-Yes, I've to admit." Meek, faint nod affirmed in strong agreement their words. Agreeing on one point. Benevolently innocent smile, honed up in the corner of his nicotine-stained lips tried to conceal any hints of dubiousness. "It's magnificent," He swallowed hard at his own words as goosebumps prickled the middle-aged lady, whereas her honey brown eyes widened at his unexpected compliment by wondering if he's sincere behind his own confessions. Radiant, mirthfully incredulous smile jolted as a bolt on her facial features._

_"If ya say so, thank you, Timothy!" They took another puffs at their cigar lengths, relishing the loneliness and atmospheric rainy day that blanketed them bizarrely warm and reassuringly. "But I've never expected these kind words about my looks from a priest." Wry snicker laced her nicotine-stained tongue as serpentine venom._

_"Always for my rare bird! I always speak my mind." They took steps backward by seating on the top of the hardwood, old desk as their proximity was unholy wee. His yearns to caress the crispiness of the luxurious myriad honey curls was just a tantalizing dream for the British compatriot. To inhale quietly, secretly the alluring gardenia, rich aroma of her lion mane, waffling past his nose and flaring the nostrils, suffocating him as a victim of drowning. She looked beautiful without the wimple. She looked like a mesmerizing mermaid. It was impossible to resist her ethereal, doubtless beauty. She was just perfection into his eyes. A holy succubus was rather the perfect characterization for her natural grace as a pious member of the clergy, habit-clad petite frame, concealing the marble pale, delicious skin of her slender, still appealing curves for her midlife stage of her life._

\- _End of Flashback_ -

\- _Nowadays_ -

"_Put his arms around your waist, held you tight__! __Kisses I could almost taste in the night__! __Wondered why I'm not the guy who's silhouette's on the shade__! __I couldn't hide the tears in my eyes__!_" The music yet played on the vinyl recorder, while the former holy man played idly, clumsily with the pen that scarcely jotted any letter on the blank sheet of paper, sitting motionlessly on the closed piano keyboard.

Timothy took his time to scribble within a few minutes something sufficiently eye-catching and touching, pouring his entire heart in a single note that was about in a couple of lines, describing his genuine feelings about the loneliness at home and the absence of the woman of the house and the child are just deplorable, missing them with every ounce of his being. His virgin-like, long as piano keys fingers grasped the pen that scribbled as a poet what was burdering him cordially and the encouraging message to his rara avis, dedicated to her only and outstandingly.

"_Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah__! __Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah__! __Lost control and rang your bell I was sore__! __Let me in, or else I'll beat down your door__!_"

When the pen tossed on the closed piano keyboard as if he'd finished with the toughest calculation of the final results of the science, thereafter his cocoa brown irises, dappled with misty burnout ablazed them as ashy nuances pigmented, incarnating his true mood at the moment, they landed in the angle of the first ever words that were an introduction to the note.

_Dear Jude/my rare bird,_

_First and foremost, the house, where we live and it's our family sanctuary isn't the same without you and Edward! The silence is just eating slow but sure as the death and the gravestone. For a few days, all I can hear is my own voice, tingling my mind. I feel like the loving instincts of holding Edward, giggling together and look after him as a true father or cuddling under the warm quilt, whilst witnessing the late night cries of our lovely son or just the nocturnal silence of petals flickering being safe and sound together, talking during breakfast and dinner time are just like third wheel for me now. I genuinely miss them._

_I don't know what Mother Claudia' intentions might be once you've the opportunity to spend some time with her for the past few days in Connecticut but I've a bad feeling. No matter what she has said about me, I truly stand for you and Edward._

_I just miss the jubilant voices of you and Edward, whirling like a tornado in our only and own house. I miss your smiles, laughters and everything else about both of you. You're two of a kind as well!_

_In addition to for St. Valentine's Day, this piano that I spent hours of disassembling it is one of your presents. I really hope you like it as a present._

_But shortly before pouring my entire heart in writing this note, a memory with us just a few weeks before that young man's exorcism whirled in my whirlpool of thoughts. It was a rainy, casual October day._

_I was all alone in your office for unknown reason. But your humming prickled my skin in goosebumps. You were like a mermaid with that long golden curly hair without wearing your veil. You weren't Sister Jude then. You were just my rare bird as at first I was so shy, in fact, you're the first ever woman, who broke the celibacy curse out of me. I told you, your hair was so distracting after offering me a cigarette and we smoked, while watching the heavy rain pouring in Boston as if God was weeping of joy, seeing two God's servants uniting and smiling at us, watching his blissful crystalline tears nurturing the nature. He was thankful for uniting us even if he saw some unholy hints behind our then platonic and somewhat romantic relationship we had. Then we sat on the top of your desk as you rested your head on my shoulder, purring sweetly._

_My goodness! Sometimes the memories are more vivid than our voices in our heads._

_Once again, I'd like to thank you once again for your forgiveness and goodwill that bring us back together even as just parents of Edward! If I weren't the one to be part of your family and to rescue you, no wonder what disastrous misery would trap you in an eternal darkness. I don't want even to imagine this darkness where you aren't, luckily. It would haunt me for the rest of my days._

_Jude, believe me or not, I love you and Edward more than anything and I'd sacrifice each ounce of myself to make you blissful! You really deserve it!_

_By Timothy_

Fat, joyful tear danced its rivulvet under his eye, trickling his pale as ghost, soft cheek after re-reading it once again, being proud of himself in a quiet, smug sniffle, stunging his eyes with joyous tears, wiping with the tad of his thumb the dancing downward crystal tears.

"_When two strangers who have been two silhouettes on the shade__ s__aid, to my shock, "you're on the wrong block."__! __Rushed out to your house with wings on my feet__! __Loved you like I'd never loved you, my sweet__!_" He left the note at last on the piano keyboard by grabbing the pen and tossing it in one of the dressing table's drawers, muffling a yawn with a hand, suppressing the warm breath that pinched his palm's skin. Timothy cordially hoped it's going to bring a smile to Jude after reading the touching, breathtaking words in a single note which it took him no longer than a few minutes to express his feelings which spoke volumes.


	18. Valentine's Day

**Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for postponing with a day and something to publish the new chapter, nevertheless, I got hooked on Breaking Bad by being obsessed and being the crucial reason for my writer's block so bear with me.**

**Anyway the 18th chapter of Wings of Light's Spotify playlist can be found there: ** playlist/0QuQGwt4qKG1tk9iz1NFkR

**I hope you like and enjoy this chapter! :) **

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

_"Mother, he changed for better! He's not the man yar eyes claim to see as mirages. I know him very well for these years as we both have been through a lot than my words could even describe. Not only he helped me to give a birth to our ray of sunshine as I'm luckier than anything to have both of them especially the thing that I graced our small family, moreover he gave me home. I've everything I'd dream of as a young woman. I'm loved and I'm happy with everything I've. I've my own job that I work with pleasure."_

_"You have right, my child! So as I know both of you pretty well, I think he's bad intentions as well. Do not get hooked on the fish too quickly! He's fishing for your trust so that somehow to take away Edward from you by blinding you again with his manipulative intentions and eventually you lose everything. Your home. Your son. Literally everything that satisfied you. He will be back in the church one day and pursue his dream as a Cardinal and afterwards a Pope."_

_"It's a pleasure, Sister Jude. Monsignor Timothy Howard!" _

_"It's mine pleasure, Father Howard. Sister Jude Martin!" _

_"M-Mother Claudia? What time is now? I see I've been asleep for more than two hours." _

_"It's true. It scares me Edward hasn't been awake for a few hours, crying out loud for being fed." _

_"Yeah, yeah! I've been told so many times I'm so kind by Jude. Let's raise a beer toast for the men's beer party!"_

_"Cheers!"_

_"Jude, the lunch is already ready! It's served on the table."_

_"Goddamn it! Just 5 more minutes, Mother Superior! I will be out of the bathroom very soon."_

_"Why not? It's not forbidden for us, the nuns and priests to smoke a bit. It doesn't hurt to smoke and watch the rain in the same time, ya know!" _

_"I know! Thank you!"_

-_ Flashback_ -

\- _14__th__ of February, 1961_ -

_"__Cayden, where you're driving me?" The much younger woman's hoarsely jubilant chuckle clicked the roof of her mouth, whereas his mammoth, callous hand slapped her round, shed like a snake skin in a thin dark panty hose knee playfully._

_"__To my house, Josephine! Didn't you forget about our first date?" The Italian compatriot was driving Josephine up to his dilapidating property as his cab glided the cleared by its luxurious pile of snow path, linking with the way to the partly godforsaken two-story property. Her petite, alabaster hand managed to lower to his larger, amusingly warm, pawing it on top. Her slim, long as flute stings fingers kneaded gently, lovingly his calloused knuckle, admiring its true nature of the serial killer's masculinity._

_Josephine was actually a young woman in her mid-20s, whose skin tone was as fair as alabaster. Her short haircut was pigmented naturally with auburn dye, framing refinedly her oval, full profile. Her button nose ideally matched with her big forest green pools, dappled with navy blue pigments, dueling with dominance whether by prepondirating the navy one sometimes, whereas other times more the forest green. Her height was approximately 5'6 with willowy body structure, building her entire identity. Last but not least, Josephine was usually wearing green in all shades garments, hugging her willowy frame. She's actually graduated from social science's university in Michigan by moving in Vermont for better life._

_Cayden and Josephine have known each other for a week and right on St. Valentine's day, the both adults organized their first date in the Italian compatriot's home, due to the fact, the young lady despised going on hikes during daylight hours. She wasn't very fond of the daylight episode of the day, because of the sun, light and its ambience of passing overcrowded streets in Vermont's outskirts every time she went shopping in the grocery store or somewhere else._

_"__I haven't Cayden! So what's for dinner?" The young lady posed the question as her childlike inquisiteveness pressed the exceeding panic button in no time by snatching her pocket mirror from her purse, inspecting in a scrutiny once again her facial features and her dark make-up such as dark red lipstick, midnight black eyeshadows and midnight black eyeliner, contouring her long as harpy's feather wings, seizing her lips in a pensive, attentive pluck._

_"__It's a surprise, honey! But I promise the dinner is going to be very…very yummy, hands down!" The hoarseness and rich undertones in his snicker didn't fade even when the car's radio wasn't even humming. It wasn't even turned on to entertain and distract the both adults. "Have you ever been on a date, darling? I mean, where the gentleman prepares something so delicious for his lady." The callous fingers' motion of massage on her round knee highly affected her anatomy, drenching her flexible folds to every delicate and sensual personal level of the posed question dumbfounded the brunette, whose ivory, yellow-stained due to the quantity of smoked cigarettes daily, in order to keep her weight on the same scale and killing off the appetite chewed on her lower lip featherly._

_"__I've been on dates where my exes have cooked something delicious even if two of them have admitted they're terrible cooks." The recurring monotonous symphony of the buzzing car engine encumbered burden that burned as coals the young woman's eyelids, verging to drift off sleeping before arriving at her crush's house. She put back the pocket mirror back in her purse without thinking twice to check her looks self-consciously. Her head crashed on the headrest, sliding her legs, whereas the serial killer's colossal, callously soothing hand tricked upwards haphazardly from her round knee up to her hip, patting it affably, unknowledgably. "And I haven't been with them for years or something. Even one of them with whom I've been for longest time about the seventh month, after we had a delicious dinner and you know what else, on the morning after I woke up in an empty and cold bed. At first, I thought he was making a breakfast for me or at least, he was in the bathroom, showering." A deep exhale flushed her nostrils, while Cayden was listening attentively, rubbing her hip which startled her, following in the corner of her drowsy, partly blinking eye the motion of his callous fingers admiring the pantyhose's sublety thin fabric, cladding her legs. The monologue was postponing her wryly rueful chuckle and to remove his hand from her upper thigh since she wasn't feeling ready to have sex with the serial killer and it's their first date. "Instead, I was in the bed, fully naked and he came in the bedroom, shouting at me without reason to get out of his house. I was quite confused. I didn't get it why right on the seventh month and after making love to each other the last night right after dinner, he wants me out. I asked him what was wrong or something. He just told me to pick up my clothes within a few minutes or he will beat the shit out of me."_

_"__What an asshole!" In the meanwhile, the Italian compatriot fluttered in rolling his chocolate brown pools, biting his lower lip, whilst managing to lift his hand from her upper thigh up to her shoulder, rubbing it alleviatingly. Warmness and violent impetus carved underneath her epidermis. Each bone embraced the touch in different versions. In some cases warm and alleviating, while in other cases, otherwise, embarrassingly pleasuring and arcane in the same time._

_How long it has been Josephine being touched and consoled by a representative of the opposite sex especially after her last romantic relationship which she couldn't escape its realistic mental consequences and her abusive father, whom she alienated from him shortly after attending regularly Michiganian's social science university?_

_"__I know he's a pure asshole, you know, Cayden! I picked up my clothes and left his property without turning back and thinking twice to have any associations with him ever again including interactions. It was all over. I was heartbroken after we've been almost for a year together and he just yells at me on the next morning to get out as if I'm nothing than a human waste."_

_"__You aren't a human waste, Josephine! You're a wonderful girl." Meantime, her forest green eyes glanced quickly at the car's glass once again, making sure, in case, if they've already arrived after the tiresome car journey. "It's such a shame assholes like your ex didn't cherish your inner beauty and your one of a kind existence. You did a great job without turning back and having any intentions of interacting to him."_

_"__At least, I'm proud of myself once I was hurt, I didn't give him a second chance. I realized he was nothing than a rolling stone. He was just there for me in these 7 months and one day, showing his true colors by telling me to get out cluelessly, angrily as if it was my all fault for goddamn sake."_

_All of a sudden, the car engine stopped in a halt buzzing dully, tiresomely as Cayden parked the cab past the two-story house that didn't look suitably decent, not offering moderate conditions for living at all. In the interval, the Italian compatriot got from the cab by slamming his door, ambling up to the young woman's side, in order to gentlemanly open the door for her and welcome her into his house._

_"__Here you are, baby doll!" The huskiness in his deep, seductive voice didn't peter out, offering a hand to hold hers and squeeze it until they set a foot in the corridor._

_"__Thank you!" Wryly grateful chuckle mewled from her tongue as she got from her seat, subsequently the vehicle was locked and their impending destination was the threshold, numbering the front door. "I-Is that your house?" Stutter was almost dying on the end of her tongue, thus nipping it unintentionally by whimpering quietly after scrapping with her front teeth the sensitive skin of her tongue and its muscles. Widened forest green pools were transfixed in mortification on the dilapidating house as according to her judgmental philosophy, why he didn't live somewhere in the slums since his two-story house incarnates the haunted and the lack of upkeep without investing any cash in its reparation and instead, his property is siatuted somewhere in the snowy woods of Vermont's countryside._

_"__Is that even a question, honey?" Profoundly wicked giggle nuzzled his tongue tip, lingering his throat as their shoes after waded the opulent carpet of span snow per a step left hazy snowy footsteps on the threshold. "It's. Don't expect me to be a Sugar Daddy, ya know!" At the moment, Cayden swatted amicably, lightly her shoulder, opting to ebb out her forebodings that brewed and cooked inside her blizzard of thoughts. A reassuringly optimistic smile creased across the older man's face by unlocking in a single click the front door, throughout guiding his guest up to the hall, whilst stepping aside and holding gentlemanly polite the door, winking gamely, seductively at her until her ankle heeled boots daubed the ankle boots' soles, cleansing them from the blanket of snow span._

_"__I know, Cayden!"_

_"__Would you like to take off the coat for you?" Even how oddly polite the question floated from his pale-pinkish lips after shutting the front door and locking it subtlety without indicating a click, meanwhile, the Michiganian kicked off her ankle heeled boots by hopping up in conveniently fuzzy slippers. A mild, docile nod in a solemn agreement confirmed his words as he ambled up to her, consequently peeling off the winter pantaletot from her arms, hanging it on the coat hanger and guiding her to the kitchen. "Good! The dinner is actually oven fried garlic parmesan green beans with tuna salad. They're all homemade, don't worry, honey!" When the young lady seated on the kitchen table that was solely adorned with flickering its dancing flames candles in the middle of the table and glasses of poured fresh Italian red wine, Cayden opened the oven to serve in two empty, unused yet plates the meal along with some tuna salad._

_"__I love homemade food, you know, Cayden! I don't like the junk food from the grocery stores which disgusts me and I avoid eating something with big calories."_

_"__Ah, you're a pretty healthy with this lifestyle and diet!" In the meantime, the middle-aged man turned to face her for a split second with creased wink. Smug, heinous grin across his mildly wizened parchment complexion flourished after serving the meal in the both plates on the dining table along with the silverware eating tools. "I like it very much how much do you care about your health and you put efforts in taking care of yourself properly."_

_"__I just try my best to not spoil myself so much with something that is," Strangely, the older man didn't sit against his guest by reapproaching the countertop, his fingers lingering in clumsy caress as if he's a seller and recommending to the customers the hottest product that has been purchased in the past days and peaked with abundance of buyers. "That is lingering on my teeth and tongue except wine and whiskey. Aren't you ready for raising a toast, Cayden? Huh?"_

_"__Shortly before this, would you like some music?"_

_"__It would be a fine addition." Suddenly, the Italian compatriot quirked quizzically his grizzly dark and thick eyebrow, suckling on his lower lip teasingly, humming in low voice._

_"__A fine addition? Hmm! Josephine, you have a rich choice of songs which to play on the vinyl recorder!"_

_"__Whatever it's, it's your best judgment!" A frustratingly jaded gasp flushed her chest, her slim, delicate fingers absently tapping the glass, attempting to calm her nerves._

_"__As you say, my lady Josephine!" Then he moved on the vinyl recorder by putting one of the vinyl disks in its, thereafter adjusting the needle until the song came on._

_"__Hello Josephine. How do you do?__Do you remember me baby like I remember you?__!" Fats Domino's song My Girl Josephine was recently playing in the background, humming its vinyl recorder, tingling angelically soothing to the Michiganian._

_"__That's incredibly lovely of you, Cayden! I didn't expect to turn on the vinyl recorder music, based on my name's song." Even how vilely bizarre sounded to the young lady that the recent song that was levitating in the background, it gave her somewhat chills as they raised a toast and gulped a handful of wee sips from the claret, savoring its claret's sinfully mouth-watering taste, lacing their wet tongues that yankered for its Italian wine's true taste._

_"__I wanted to dedicate it to ya, babydoll! Did you like the wine?"_

_"__Yeah, I did." She wiped with the back of her creamily alabaster, petite hand the wine-stained's dew encased lips._

_"__How about the dinner, Josephine?" Meantime, his posed question made her choke the gulped sip of the Italian red wine, muffling it, whereas her only free elvish hand rubbed gently, reassuringly her throat's muscles to subdue any hints of puking. "Is everything fine? Do I need to pat yar back?" At the moment, saliva dripped from her tongue after choking, trickling its downward to her mini skirt's cashmere hem. A gesture to stop in a halt assured him to not get from the kitchen table._

_"__You used to laugh at me and holler "Woo woo woo"__! __I used to walk you home__!"_

_"__No, no, thank you! I'm good." A muffled dry cough scratched her throat, earning momentarily her host's incredulous gaze, holding hers with raised an arch of his thick and dark eyebrow, indicating its creasents on his temple and the cusp of his eyebrows. "What were you saying then?"_

_"__What do you think about the dinner meal, Josephine?" The hoarseness in his repeat rendered her front teeth instinctively girlish, demure to bit her tongue tip, seconds before yanking the fork and prong the oven fried green beans with parmesan._

_"__Mmmm!" The oven fried green beans with parmesan molted in her mouth, lingering its scrumptious taste on her berry-coloured tongue, almost unable to resist its rich savor, fluttering shut her eyelids in its spellbind. The incredulity softened to smugness and sheer bliss, glowing his cocoa brown irises. The creases ebbed off abruptly in the limbo. No more marks or alludes of trustlessness crinkled the psychopath's face. "It's spectacular, Cayden! You did a great job for the dinner and spoiling with the wine."_

_"__It's not calling spoiling, my lady! It's called," Softened pause left her on a cliffhanger for the emphasis on its tempting lisp, gulping a few tiny, blameless sips from the Italian claret. "Warm welcome!"_

"_I used to hold your hand__! __You used to use my umbrella ev'ry time it rained__!"_

_"__As you say, Cayden!" Muffled hoarse snigger slipped from her tongue, pronging some tuna from the luxuriously made salad until the bite perched on her tongue, munching it continuously, savoring its scrumptious savor. "Oh!" In the meanwhile, the young lady hiccupped, chocking in the mid-munching of the tuna salad's bite, glithering from her seat under the kitchen table in the final seconds before unconsciousness blanketed her figure as a grim reaper._

_"__Don't worry about this one, Josephine! I'm glad you tasted everything as well." Instead of aiding the guest, the Italian compatriot just gawked cockily with criminal rancor, mottling his chocolate brown irises as he reached for her petite hand, dragging her from the floor as a rag doll, whilst her eyelids struggled to blink until they fluttered tightly shut senselessly. "We shall make some sacrifice in the name of our first date, babydoll!" Then the middle-aged man heaved her weightless, senseless body from the carpeted flooring up to the countertop._

_\- A Few Hours Later -_

_"__Here we go with the relaxing bloodbath!" A few hours have elapsed after Cayden has butchered Josephine's senseless body and storing her entire shed blood in a jar for the bloodbath he's about to take within a handful of minutes, pouring the entire warm gore in the already filled bathtub. The pooling liquid incarnadined within moments with each droplet until the last abided droplets slowly but surely pelted down. The sound of splashing gore into the bathtub's pooling water tingled his ears with a low thrum of the liquid as if a rock was tossed in the misty lake, mirroring in its crystalline wavelets the saturating scintillating sun rays and the lakeshore._

_At the moment, the middle-aged man discarded each garment of his from his suit to his boxers which were hooked on the bathroom's ajar opened door. The low humming of the twittering rats voyaged in the decaying room amalgamated with the poured as a cataract gore, launching downward until illuminating from translucent liquid into bloody red. The pungent reek of blood waffled across his nostrils, melding with the rats' urine and mold._

_Then the Italian compatriot left the emptied jar on the marble, blemished with mounds and uncleanable stains sink, testing with a forefinger the bloody-stained water's temperature as it baptized his fingertip with hot liquid, searing it with slight bearable sore pain._

_"__I think it's time for a streamy bloodbath." All of a sudden, his burly figure dipped in the bloody swamp, allowing himself to recline on the rim of the bath, partly blinking his eyelids, gasping hedonistically in mellowly deep voice. Fiercely flaring his nostrils at the reek of fresh blood of his recent victim of his manipulations, his heart beats easened in soft pulsations into his toned chest. "Josephine's blood is the freshest for a good bloodbath even if it's one-off."_

\- _End of Flashback _-

-_ Nowadays _-

\- _14__th__ of February, 1966 _-

The wee hours of Valentine's day morning have approached slower but steadier than gallop.

In the past days when Andrea was in David and Cassandra's home for a few days, she had a great time not only with her son-in-law, furthermore with her grandchildren, who loved her more than anything. In their spare time, the middle-aged lady played with Kathy and Jack on cards and with their toys and stuffed dolls, besides teaching them cooking and baking altogether. Furthermore, they shared with each other how their days at school passed and aiding them with their homework, in case, if it's a bit too difficult for them to solve the problems.

Anyway a few days ago, the prostitute got back in her one-story cottage, where she lived all alone and she got visited usually by her grandchildren along with David or Frank, one of her most loyal friends.

The last time when the middle-aged lady has called her friend was the last night shortly before the beginning of his night shift on the parking lot as a security guard by inviting him over her place to drink coffee and spill the tea.

It didn't take Andrea more than a quarter an hour to brew fresh coffee for herself and Frank after finishing his night shift on the parking lot and when she just finished with her task, she served the plain mugs with the searing caffeine beverages on the kitchen table, Frank was right on time by ringing on the door and welcoming him as they took their seats against one another.

"So how are you, Frank?" In the meanwhile, the middle-aged woman grabbed with a couple of fingers the mug's handle by gulping a handful of wee sips to refresh herself after coming to her senses an hour ago. The mellowness and honeyedness in her posed question tingled warmly the security guard's ears after spending hours on a parking lot, securing it and harking galore of buzzing car and other type of vehicles' engines. Andrea's voice was soothingly mellow and nothing like the ocean of monotonously buzzing vehicle engines which sung its recurring dull song. She sounded like an angel, sent from God to soothe consolingly her friends and family especially after having a tough day or tough time in their lives. She was one of a kind friend, in Frank's humble opinion. Regardless her notorious and long-career as a prostitute, the former police officer disregarded her profession and the notoriety, deeming them as nothing that characterizing and determining their stable and unique friendship they've built for months. Andrea was one of a kind friend, who was focused mainly on their friendship rather than on their flaws and imperfections. "How was the night shift on the parking lot?"

"I'm fine, although I'm slightly sleepy after listening constantly buzzing car and other kind of vehicles' engines. I can still hear them in my head." His pale-pinkish, coffee-stained lips grazed the porcelain material while swigging from the porcelain cup effortlessly, slurping in immense pleasure and lotus-eatingly, relishing the caffeine liquid, lacing his berry-coloured tongue. "I feel like a mess after this night shift, Andrea! Anyway thank ya for asking." He muffled a mere yawn with his solely free mammoth, veiny hand. "What about ya too, Andrea?"

"I'm good. I woke up an hour ago to make coffee for us after doing my morning yoga as well."

"Ah! Yar doing the morning yoga." Meantime, Frank left aloof his cup of coffee, quirking in bewilderment an eyebrow, forming a crease the gap between his both eyebrows, pursing thoughtfully his coffee-stained lips. A confident nod in a solemn agreement affirmed his uncertainity for not acknowledging the blonde's secret hobbies even during her leisure time. "That's doubtlessly healthy and marvelous. Why didn't ya tell me earlier it's part of yar hobbies?"

"I just started practicing it these days." Stammer lingered her vocal stings, factly, she didn't expect her friend to enquire her about yoga being part of her hobbies along with baking, cooking and playing cards. Frank's inquisitive nature was one of the middle-aged lady's favorite fragments about him, chewing on her lower plumpish lip. "I just discovered the yoga practice is among my favorite activities along with cooking, baking and playing cards." In the meanwhile, her slim, long as flute fingers absently played with the plain lily-white mug, emitting raspy chuckle. "I've been through an enormous stress lately while being in my son-in-law and daughter's house for a couple of days even if it's fun to be with my grandchildren Kathy and Jack, besides David." Heavy sigh flushed from her sensitive nostrils, casting a lowered gaze at the translucent dim that whirled as tornado from the cup of coffee, licking her lips greedily at the sight of yet hot coffee.

"Because of that jackass daughter of yars yelling at ya judgmentally, right?"

"Language, Frank!" Meanwhile, the blonde lifted an index finger directly at him as an accurately shot bullet at its target, whereas his lips popped up as exploding dynamite at her fierce words in an emphasis. "But yeah, Cassandra is still the same old headache, who doesn't give a shit about my existence and my unconditional love for her." Her slim fingers managed to knead reassuringly, versatily her temple to avoid a migraine or a headache at the hazy recollected disturbing memories of her daughter's shrilling menaces and yells at her, melding altogether as whispers of a schizophrenic that walloped his blizzard of thoughts incessantly with his own inner voices. The delicate fingertips swept her forehead's skin as if she's applying a lotion for subduing the burnt, unprotected skin that was allowed to be exposed on the sweltering sun in the daylight hours. "And that's why the yoga is part of my daily schedule especially in the mornings and before bedtime. It relaxes my mind and body after every tough day or a day, where the dynamics and the stress were a bit too much to be handled together."

"I can't get over how Cassandra is treating ya like a shit after everything good ya have done for her and in the name of yar maternal love for her." Mild ire swivel his tongue in the emphasis, scratching uneasily his grizzly scalp with his small fingernails, scrapping the sensitive skin of his head, capped with rich yet soft as cotton candy hoary hair that tickled his fingers. It profoundly hurt Frank how unfairly was treated his friend especially after sacrificing each ounce of hers to make her daughter happy and live a decent life back in her youth even childhood. "Some people like her don't realize what their beloved ones have done for them even if it's the pettiest nice thing they've earned," He paused, clearing his throat gruffily. "With love! I bet the promiscuous stuff appalls her as much as the crimes."

"There's a ginormous difference being a hooker and being a criminal. She'd be more ashamed of me if I was lurking around and murdering people."

"Anyway it's all the same for her."

"Exactly!" In the interval, the hooker gulped bittersweetly hard a lump, formed in her throat at the pout-tightened frown, crinkling her jaw line muscles. "And that's what it annoys me. She's smart girl but she acts like ignorant to not differ a criminal from a prostitute or a town pump."

"Let's change this stressful topic into something more joyous, ya know, Andrea!"

"What's on your mind, Frank?" Suddenly, her slim, delicate fingers reached for the mug of gradually cooling caffeine beverage, gripping it by its handle, sipping innocently then producing a smug slurp, wiping with the back of her hand her damp, caffeine-stained cherub lips. The concept of changing the topic from one to another was likable even approved from the both sides even when the middle-aged woman was fed up to bones to talk about how her daughter still neglects her and not bothering to acknowledge her existence. The temporal visit for a handful of days in Cassandra's home was too much to portray in five pages essay each word, each sentence and each moment that has affected somehow or not affected her mood. It was too much to talk about on the morning even when having a cup of coffee with a loyal and decent friend like Frank, who would love to listen to her for hours crying on his shoulder for her own issues and receiving a beneficial piece of advice. He was amidst the fewest people with David and her grandchildren, who deeply and still genuinely cared about her. "I'd like to talk about anything except the stressful topics where my word is inflammatory."

"Urm, how about Valentine's day since today is the day of the people in love, ya know?"

"I'm already forty-five years old, Frank! Moreover, I don't have somebody who I'm head over heels in love in mind." All of a sudden, the single mother ducked shamefacedly her head, watery eyes pinching the sensitive tissues of her eyelids searingly, verging to pour a heavy rain of crystalline tears, staining her yellow-stained due to the smoked tobacco daily, slightly wizened with the age complexion. "But I wish I could have. My life is a total mess." Andrea found her head already cracked on millions of glassily flimsy and frail pieces shattered with a single throb. After the divorce with her ex, consequently after moving on freshly her life, the middle-aged lady has been once in a relationship, surviving with her ex-boyfriend a few years a romantic relationship until they splitted up and preferred to stay as friends only.

"Hey, dear! Do not blame yarself even when yar working something that doesn't grant ya a good reputation at all!" His mammoth, amusingly warm hand reached for her elvish, milky as alabaster hand, taking it into his secure as a thumb managed to knead the back of hers comfortingly. "I'm sure some of yar clients have the enormous wish to get to know ya instead of, ya know. Fornicating!" Thereafter he brought her hand up to his coffee-stained lips, pecking a gentle, gracious kiss on her frail knuckles.

"Well, for example my ex-boyfriend. He used to be a hired client of mine and instead of making it out for one-night stand, he invited me to watch a movie on the cinema and have a deep conversation afterwards on our way to home."

"Tell me more about it." The middle-aged man's inquisitiveness erupted as scorching volcano, squeezing his friend's hand into his larger, protective to banish her anxiety and worries. The sudden interest of Frank to listen to her story about her ex touched her, sedating her bones and muscles with nothing than the sensantion of warmness, understanding and love which she could find in Frank's sincerity and loyality. "I don't judge, ya know."

"He was so sweet, kindhearted and wonderful gentleman. I was around twenty and eight-year-old woman. He was in his mid-twenties. Cassandra was a little girl yet by that time. His name was Gus Furmanek. He's from Greendale, Wisconsin. He's Polish roots from his father's side, whilst his mother is actually a Canadian. He was raised in a strict household since he's strongly looking forward to be an engineer like his father." A deep breath disturbed the pause for a split second, tilting her head. "Anyway he preferred to emigrate in Vermont just like me a long long time ago, in fact, his father was pain in the ass with his strictness even when he's a grown-up young man. He was already an adult, not a child to be freakly controlled by his father. He emigrated in Vermont before me and pursuing his studies in engineering though he gave up on the last year since Gus's desire was to become a lawyer by studying in a law school." In the meanwhile, the blonde chugged her coffee within seconds by getting from her seat, in order to fill with water the emptied cup in the sink. "We were for a few years together and Cassandra really loved him as her own step-father, despite we haven't planned to marry each other. Gus loved her too. But suddenly on the third year of our dating, we splitted up, due to the fact, he hasn't got enough time to satisfy me romantically and his career as a lawyer was filling his hectic schedule. And perhaps, I think that was the wise decision, in his humble opinion. Staying as friends since being a lawyer was coming a bit too much for him daily and I could fully understand him."

"At least, yar still friends which are good instead of ending up like enemies. Just like with one of my high school girlfriends who I ended up as friends for the rest of our days!" The smile of the former cop had thousand patterns of optimism, parting his baby pinkish lips, creasing across his face. "I'm sure ya and Gus were a drop-dead gorgeous couple together."  
"We were for sure! He was a keen fan of going to the cinema and taking me on movies in the weekends. The last time when we saw each other was 3 years ago." The suddenness in lowering her hoarse voice after resitting on the dining table taunted the former policeman's mind being assaulted with abundance of questions per a second. Something was off, according to him. Andrea sounded desperate even her lowered voice gave hints to him that everything was far from alright. "Up to now, I really don't have any idea where's he or something. I've the strong feeling after his haphazard disappearance, the things were far from reassuring for me. It haunts me up to nowadays. I feel trapped in the past's fear and terror."

"W-Why? Did he pass away?" All of a sudden, the middle-aged lady's eyelids immersed in salty dew, hazy rivulet trickling her lower eyelids fatly, verging to produce secretion, bobbing her head at the thought of her ex-boyfriend and long-time friend's disappearance 3 years ago, biting her upper lip. Sniffling quietly, unable to subdue the melancholy as if a gladiator's chariot with horses tugged impulsively and uncontrollably the gladiator without being able of properly guiding them.

"Not exactly! Just days after seeing one another, he was on a business trip to Minnesota but suddenly he became a victim of an airplane crash without finding the plane's ruins and passengers which was even weirder."

"That's tremendously odd! I'm sure the government is such a coward to leak any secret behind this mysterious airplane crash."

"The government never spoke anything about this airplane accident which is even odder. I hope he's on better place if he isn't among us or at least, he's safe and sound!"

After drinking his morning coffee and getting ready for the train station, the former aspiring Monsignor drove to the train station by parking his car in the sole parking lot and awaiting eagerly for his former lover's arrival.

His winter black pantaletot well matched with his trousers, shoes and his sweater, coating his torso with unfindable from anywhere heat, snuggling as replacement even when he hadn't a special companion to snuggle and share a mutual warmness. Timothy truly missed cuddling with his former lover and allowing her weightless body nestled altogether in the warmth caverns under the quilt every night. He truly missed each moment spent with her along with their ray of sunshine. He missed with every fibre of his body to feel her warm, coffee-stained breath after the morning coffee fanning his ear and chestnut hair. Timothy missed the velvety Boston accent that accentuated her utterance. The hoarseness in her voice without ebbing out. The rich resonance of her husky chuckle when something sincerely made her laugh or at least, to trickle an airbrush with vibrant colors across her face and painting the genuine, beaming smile he longed to behold every morning and every moment of their existence. The British compatriot frankly missed with every ounce per a second when they exchanged pecks on their cheeks and foreheads even consoling, sweltering warmness in their hugs. Last but not least, he missed the morning breakfasts and coffees which they never missed together as a family and dinner time. Breakfast and dinner time were the only daily episodes which they've been together ultimately without canceling them except when Jude was in Connecticut and she was on a date with Cayden in his property.

The mid-February icy wind stirred up with powder of mild pinkish blush the former priest's chubby, well-defined cheeks, attempting to weather his berry-coloured, soft as satin lips, draining his freshness and youthfulness naturally as a natural disaster. Swarm of people, whether waiting for their train eagerly with their train tickets to go somewhere else on a train journey over the country or on the contrary, awaiting in the mid-February morning's glacial blanket, bundling its surroundings strangers for their friends or family to be back from any corner of their big home land they traveled whether for long or short time.

Jude and Edward were yet in the train which they took back for Vermont from Connecticut. She needed to nurse her son four times on their way to Vermont until their train wagon stops on the train station at last.

All of a sudden, the newspaper man tossed bluntly a rolled newspaper at the former holy man, startling him until his muscly, strong arms cradled, catching for his own luck the rolled newspaper with today's breaking news, jotted down. Unfortunately, Timothy didn't have the luck to find out who was the newspaper man, who tossed the newspaper at him, vanishing in no time.

Anyway his bare colossal hands unrolled the journal, perusing in a scrutiny the today's news until his cocoa brown orbs scanned a journal's article under the name "Free St. Valentine's party tonight" with big bold letters, indicating its article's important to grab prominently the reader's attention promptly at first sight. The entry drew his attention and an impulse of an idea just popped up in his mind. First and foremost, the entry's description was far from unimportant for him to procure the basic information about the free St. Valentine's day party which is going to be held in each bar and club in Vermont.

**Only for today, in fact, it's today St. Valentine's day, esteemed as the day of lovers, every bar and club is going to have a free party center for everybody who've interest to participate in the party, no matter their age and whether if they're in love or not yet. Everybody is welcome to go and have fun!**

"That's a good amateur article. I'm wondering which kiddo is being allowed its article to be published in the public journal." In the interim, the British compatriot snatched from his pantaletot's pocket a lighter along with his cigarette pack to smoke a cigarette for a few minutes until Jude and Edward's arrival, consequently gapping with its cigar length his lips, liting it up until he put the cigarette pack with a couple of remaining more cigarettes and lighter back in his coat's pocket, reclining on the bench and taking a first drag at his cigar, subsequently puffing a hoary dim. The rolled newspaper was motionlessly cradling on his lap. On one hand, the journal's entry dissatisfied how amateur appeared some journalists to be and how its redaction allowed their articles to be out in the market, available for thousands of enthusiasts. According to the once holy priest, the article was far from professional and indispensable to be an urgent announcement for the Valentine's Day enthusiasts since there are some young people who usually visit bars and clubs and they will figure out for themselves there's a free party.

On other hand, it gave him a spark of an idea to fill the schedule for today and take the further step in his toxic relationship with his former lover by working and opting to repair the mess they're swamped in for months. Instead of staying at home after dinner by watching TV, watering the plants and let the boredom consume them insurmountably and having no progress at all. How long it's been Timothy to overcome with something beneficial and even if it's a cliché, nonetheless it's original in aiding to find the light and most of all, the right track of his love for Jude which he caged inside? At first, the former man of the cloth feared if they rushed up and they took this step much earlier, nothing will change now with exception for worse and muddling their relationship they've being building for years but now for weeks and months after no longer residing the dull walls of the notorious madhouse. However, since Timothy and Madeleine aided Jude to recover somehow from Cayden and his malicious intentions, anyway having a first date whether outdoors or indoors won't harm their relationship at all. It would be rather the better alternative to help one another recover from their held grudges for months and the abstinence that blocked their way to achieve felicity and harmony after serving the church for years, without thinking twice to flee, because of becoming family people and escaping Boston to cleanse themselves from the dreadful memories that yet haunted them but not as much as before. Haunting dreadful memories as if the infernal eyes and somber shadows were casted at the former members of the clergy, scrutinizing each manner and motion of their decisions, rationalized.

"Or at least, that's a good idea to welcome Jude back in Vermont and to open a new chapter in our lives!" Taking a second drag at the cigar length, throughout blowing the ashy dim, overspread its pungent stench of tobacco across his nostrils as sea's wavelets, swimming smoothly. Pensively optimistic smile flexed his jaw until one of the train wagons stopped in a halt its monotonous engine until it was silenced by its passengers' chattering, swimming in the background. Suddenly his chocolate brown pools shifted timidly, hesitantly to the train wagon which stopped until he found out the Bostonian held in one of her arms, rocking the almost five-month-old infant, cascading cautiously the train's stairs by holding in her solely free hand a suitcase with her baggage. In the meanwhile, the younger man tossed on the ground the unsmoked drag by stomping on it without allowing his love interest to find out that he's smoked. Afterwards he snatched a one-off packed gum, chewing it incessantly to refresh his breath, despite the inescapable stench of cigars, glazing his tall figure. "Jude and Edward! I really missed both of you!" He scurried in no time to scoop them in a tight, warm embrace after having a tough time home alone for days.

"Timothy, I missed ya so much! I'm so happy to see each other again!" Ecstasy was clearly visible in her muffled whisper, whilst burying her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion in the crook of his neck. Her suitcase was set on the ground for awhile, whilst melting in the embrace she yearned to feel and melt in not just for seconds, minutes and hours but for days. "Ya don't have any idea how much I missed ya."

"At least, you're back which relieves me and makes me glad!" At the moment, Edward threw his pudgy arms around his father's neck, molting in the loving embrace they shared altogether. "I'm sure you have a lot of to tell about your stay in Mother Claudia and Connecticut for a few days."

"I do have, in spite of she was slightly," When they broke off the hug, stutter sluggishly lingered, postponing her reply by sorting her mind to overcome with a rational, nevertheless, straightforward reply at what exactly her former mentor told her and talked behind Timothy's back. "Ya know, she was unpleasantly surprised at first how we're having a baby by breaking a vow and about yar past."

"Look what, rare bird!" Meantime, he cupped the cheeks of Edward and the blonde in the palms of his stark, flabbergastingly warm hands, tracing with the tad of his thumb the blonde's well-defined cheek. Light cherry blush touched faintly innocent her cheeks, melting in the delicateness of the gentlemanly touch. "Hi lovely angel! Daddy missed you so much." He shifted his attention for a split second to the young boy as he babbled cheerfully his father's name, giggling quietly, mirthfully with a budding smile, smeared across his lips. "Jude, she's absolutely wrong what she has talked about my intentions and breaking the vow we took years ago! We used to be a nun and priest years ago and I got you out shortly after you gave a birth to our lovely cherub angel. We're madly in love each other so that this miracle is with us at last and I don't see the mistake, because it's not a mistake what we have done with Edward and leaving the church and Briarcliff for good." The younger man exhaled sharply, attempting to control the chewing process of his gum, in order to not look bizarrely suspicious into the former promiscuous nightclub singer's eyes. "If she thinks I'm going to manipulate you and let you down just like the old Timothy Howard would do when he was a blinded by its an ambition priest, that's the biggest lie. Because I've took a vow to not leave you ever again and I'll stay with you no matter the circumstances."

"That's what I exactly told her but at first, she refused to listen to me! I understood how lovingly protective she's over me, due to the fact, she considers me as her own daughter figure but I'm glad she apologized later. She constantly warned me to be careful even when I'm careful the most."

\- _2 Hours Later or So_ -

Two hours that were measured in a car journey up to the two-story privately owned property, the both former devotional members of the clergy conversated one another about Jude's stay in Connecticut for a few days and Mother Claudia's initial fierce words about the British aristocrat.

As soon as they were finally at home after the long car journey, the cab was parked in the yard and the former holy man helped to his love interest with the luggage by bringing it back upstairs along with Edward by putting him in his crib to rest for a few hours until he's peckish for breastmilk, Jude was downstairs, lingering in the living room after noticing the new piece of furniture she quickly fell in love with.

"Here you go, little cherub angel!" Seconds before laying him in the crib by drapping a blanket over his petite body, his mammoth, secure hands heaved him in the air, baby talking to him softly. The softness of his British accent was soothing for the infant and having no troubles to drift off sleep within seconds. "I love you more than anything, Edward Ralph! And I'm so glad you and your Mommy are at home after these tiresome days of loneliness and emptiness." Little did he know why the middle-aged woman delayed to tower the stairway for the second floor and unbox her luggage within a couple of minutes. His pale-pinkish, cherub lips peppered the little boy's chubby, tinted sanguinely with blameless natural paint of ruddiness facial skin with doting, feather kisses, giggling by melting in the cheek kisses. Then he laid down in the cot the baby to slumber for a handful of hours, petting his head as a young puppy, admiring the softness of his chestnut hair, wearing a radiant smile, glimmering thousand of blissful patterns as one. "I'm sure you need some sleep after this exhausting train journey as I'll take a good care of the things around the house. I promise, my little warrior!" Then Timothy gripped by its handle the suitcase, walking away from the children's room by leaving in the middle of the king-sized bed's bedroom the unpacked baggage of the former pious sister of the church. "Jude, what are you doing?" Meanwhile, his British accent mewled the inquiry.

"I'm checking the piano." In the meanwhile, the younger man fled the bedroom by descending the stairs, his hand slithering downward the stairway railing, measuring its length with fingers. His masculine, sufficiently loud footsteps creased apprehension across the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's face, whilst perusing in a scrutiny the note which the British compatriot has scribbled the last night.

_Dear Jude/my rare bird,_

_First and foremost, the house, where we live and it's our family sanctuary isn't the same without you and Edward! The silence is just eating slow but sure as the death and the gravestone. For a few days, all I can hear is my own voice, tingling my mind. I feel like the loving instincts of holding Edward, giggling together and look after him as a true father or cuddling under the warm quilt, whilst witnessing the late night cries of our lovely son or just the nocturnal silence of petals flickering being safe and sound together, talking during breakfast and dinner time are just like third wheel for me now. I genuinely miss them._

_I don't know what Mother Claudia' intentions might be once you've the opportunity to spend some time with her for the past few days in Connecticut but I've a bad feeling. No matter what she has said about me, I truly stand for you and Edward._

_I just miss the jubilant voices of you and Edward, whirling like a tornado in our only and own house. I miss your smiles, laughters and everything else about both of you. You're two of a kind as well!_

_In addition to for St. Valentine's Day, this piano that I spent hours of disassembling it is one of your presents. I really hope you like it as a present._

_But shortly before pouring my entire heart in writing this note, a memory with us just a few weeks before that young man's exorcism whirled in my whirlpool of thoughts. It was a rainy, casual October day._

_I was all alone in your office for unknown reason. But your humming prickled my skin in goosebumps. You were like a mermaid with that long golden curly hair without wearing your veil. You weren't Sister Jude then. You were just my rare bird as at first I was so shy, in fact, you're the first ever woman, who broke the celibacy curse out of me. I told you, your hair was so distracting after offering me a cigarette and we smoked, while watching the heavy rain pouring in Boston as if God was weeping of joy, seeing two God's servants uniting and smiling at us, watching his blissful crystalline tears nurturing the nature. He was thankful for uniting us even if he saw some unholy hints behind our then platonic and somewhat romantic relationship we had. Then we sat on the top of your desk as you rested your head on my shoulder, purring sweetly._

_My goodness! Sometimes the memories are more vivid than our voices in our heads._

_Once again, I'd like to thank you once again for your forgiveness and goodwill that bring us back together even as just parents of Edward! If I weren't the one to be part of your family and to rescue you, no wonder what disastrous misery would trap you in an eternal darkness. I don't want even to imagine this darkness where you aren't, luckily. It would haunt me for the rest of my days._

_Jude, believe me or not, I love you and Edward more than anything and I'd sacrifice each ounce of myself to make you blissful! You really deserve it!_

_By Timothy_

_"__A-Am I dreaming?" Mumble chattered her chin, watery eyes produced twin fat rivulets across her lower eyelids, verging to well salty, joyful tears in her eyelids as a luxurious fountain due to the words that deeply touched the bottom of her heart, nibbling on the silken skin of her lower plumpish lip. Little did she know how heartwarming and comforting were the former ambitious Monsignor's words, poured in a short note to her, describing the true notion of loneliness for a few days as if it's alook like a timeless, dark eternity. The blonde could already put herself into his shoes, picturing the heartache and every emotion and feeling he felt then in pouring each word per a second and per a sentence. The clicking masculine, sufficiently shrilling footsteps of the former Monsignor were oblivious for her as if her entire attention was focused on the note. What it struck her additionally was the mentioned recollected prominent memory they'd in Briarcliff a few years ago especially in her office. Fat twin tears tumbled down her cheeks, drenching faintly the note's vulnerable, plain paper._

_"__Y-You read the note?"Stammer snaked sluggishly by grinding on his tongue, almost dying on his tongue tip as soon as he stepped in the living room, catching the Bostonian reading the note he left on the piano keyboard the last night. In the meantime, she grasped in her slim, delicate fingers the note, shifting her stare with a tearfully merry smile, bloomed upon her round, full profile. Round hazelish-brown pools widened at the sight of the British aristocrat, bustled up to him as a foal, agitatedly bustling up to his parent, seeking welfare, comfort and love after being attemptedly assaulted by other bigger, more ferocious beasts. She spread momentarily her arms to curl them around his shoulders for a hug._

_"__I did. Oh God! I didn't expect all this." Quiet sob drenched his sweater, whereas her face was buried in the crook of his neck, grasping the embrace. His both muscular, toned arms guarded her waist. Her heart raced haphazardly. "I've hardly imagined ya would be that sweet to write it for me and buying this new piano."_

_"__I bought it not only for our family, most of all, I bought it for you as you can play on it anytime and any part of the day."_

_"__That's a bit too much for me for today, I guess!"_

_"__No, no, no!" Honeyed shushing broke off their embrace as with the tad of his thumb he daubed the trickling creeks of bitter, crystalline tears. "No, no, no!" In honeyed mellow voice he repeated, clearing his throat softly. Her puffy, ruddily sore eyelids blinked in a choir, reproducing the drying flow of tears, staining her parchment complexion. "You deserve anything that makes you happy. You deserve to be spoiled and loved."_

_"__I'm just feeling uncomfortable when somebody sacrifices something for my happin-" In the interval, another sob taunted the former holy man to daub her tears with the tad of his thumb, whilst his only free hand's couple of fingers tucked a fistful of wild aureate strands behind her petite, sensitive ear, thereafter managing to lower his fingers downward to her chin, grabbing it to tilt her ducked her head, meeting each other's gazes._

_"__Jude!"_

_"__What?" She whimpered the enquiry with slight vexation._

_"__Everything is fine! You're loved and you're quite blissful. You've been through a lot and your strong character and determination awarded you with unseen rewards which you've them now. You deserve much better!"_

_"__I just need ya and Edward. That's all what I need!" Then she charged her face in the crook of his neck for a consoling, doting snuggle, nuzzling with her button, delicate nose tip the crook of his palish neck, subduing her sniffles. "I don't need any presents or trips to the Carribeans to be the bloodiest happy woman on the planet. I don't need fricking jewelry to be the prettiest. Oh God!" Suddenly the middle-aged lady fashioned in balled fists her elvish hands that clawed his muscular, broad shoulders. _

_"__Aw, Jude! It's among the fewest times I've ever heard you being honest about your feelings for me. Everything I've written in the note is true what I truly feel and mean in the same time." Shortly after they broke off the embrace, consequently the younger man followed the older woman, who towered the stairs, in order to unpack her baggage and distribute them in their default places. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"_

_"__What do ya mean exactly?"_

_"__How about to go out together on a first date tonight and to do something much different rather than staying at home after dinner or before dinner for the evening news and then putting Edward down to sleep?" Whilst the middle-aged lady was discarded the folded garments and underwear of hers by sorting them in the accurate drawer, the suggestion of doing something different and altering their schedule somehow was approved by the former nun, suckling on her lower lip bashfully as a schoolgirl. In the meantime, the younger man was reclining on the doorframe of the fully bedroom opened door, gawking the motion of Judy distributing her once cached in a suitcase clothes with a irretrievable beaming, sympathetic smile, shimmering thousand of beaming patterns in a single second. Her lethal silence and bashfulness somehow persuaded Timothy's idea of their first date wasn't exactly likable or on the contrary, she needed some time to ponder on the suggestion which wasn't repeating daily. "Is everything okay, Jude?"_

_"__Yeah, it's okay." Once the Bostonian finished with sorting the attires, then she unpacked the baby items such as baby clothes, toys, bottle and soother along with the package of diapers, baby soap and baby shampoo. "I really like your genius idea, ya know." There aren't any visible hints of sarcasm even irony in her utterance, when she suddenly, slowly and steadily turned to face him after unpacking the baby stuff for Edward Ralph, beaming at him. "But it's so unbelievably overwhelming all this. I haven't expected ya will overcome with something genius for tonight, Timothy!"_

_"__At least, it happened! I'm sure we will have a great time rather than doing absolutely nothing at home tonight."_

_"__But what about Edward? Who will look after him during our absence?"_

_"__Even if we're absent for the whole night," Mischievous chuckle clicked the roof of his mouth, approaching the king-sized bed by picking up a fistful items from the baby stuff, seconds before fleeing up to the children's room to sort them. "Maddie and Roman can look after our baby son but there should be remaining breastmilk in the baby bottle."_

_"__How I almost forgot about those both? Oh!" The amalgamating of taking a deep breath, weltering her chest and the opened warily notoriously creaky door swam on the second floor. Meantime, the middle-aged woman grunted a mutter in dissatisfaction for her oblivion after breastfeeding her ray of sunshine and being foolishly head over heels in love with nobody else than her confidant. "Of course!"_

_A half a minute later Timothy reentered in the bedroom aid Judy with unboxing her luggage._

_"__What time we shall leave?"_

_"__In six and a half o'clock tonight. You have enough time to collect some rest since it's going to be a sleepless night." He winked gamely, optimistically at her as the both adults couldn't suppress jubilant, sheepish giggles._

_\- __A Couple of Hours Later__-_

_"__It's surprising me how we went out in the park, instead of being at home for an hour, you know." The middle-aged lady bashfully, girlishly folded her arms in snuggle, whilst seating alongside her younger client who was a man in his mid-30s with dark blond hair, capping his soft as satin head. The younger man possessed darker hues of amber brown irises, dappled with midnight black pigments. His skin tone was healthily olive-tanned with plump, masculinely shaped pale lips. Furthermore, he was tall 6'4 and he was pretty tall, compared to Andrea and his body structure was leanly muscular. Last but not least, he's from Ohio as his parents are with French, Dutch and English even slightly Argentinian roots, affecting his facial features. His name was actually Harry Roberts._

_"__I just wanted to surprise you, Andrea! I don't like it to use the women for beneficial and sole purposes as you get me." The Ohio native emphasized, curling his both leanly muscly, protective arms around her, resting his chin on top of her long golden mop of glossy tresses, inhaling the rich aroma of lilacs, wafting across his sensitive nostrils._

_"__C-Come on! I thought you were like the other men." Sarcasm took advantage of her daredevil, ironic game, muffling a whisper with her warm, hot chocolate-stained breath._

_"__I'm not them, Andrea! I'd rather prefer getting to know you rather than getting laid with you. It's a humiliation."_

_When Harry arrived in the prostitute's home, what it flabbergasted her was that he invited her directly on a hike in the park in Vermont's outskirts by relaxing and getting to know each other. How long it has been since somebody from the opposite sex has treated her adequately and kindly, besides Gus, her absent old friend and ex-boyfriend in the same time? The blonde was deeply touched by his humongous enthusiasm of getting to know one another and spending their time outdoors in the frosty mid-February day in the wee hours of the afternoon._

_During their hike, the both acquaintances drank a hot chocolate in one of the cafeterias and wandering the snowy streets of the Vermont's countryside. What the both adults came to the conclusion is that they quickly became fond of one another, in spite of knowing one another for a few hours only._

_Harry was amidst the fewest men, who will genuinely confess he'd rather prefer getting to know the prostitute instead of getting laid with her and then dumping her an hour later._

_\- __Later that Day__-_

A several hours later after catnapping and feeding a couple of times her baby boy, the former sister of the church spent a few hours in getting ready for the first date by taking a shower and washing her hair, besides shaving her legs and underarms, avoiding its wiry dark body hair to diminish her self-confidence and applying some make-up along with besprinkling perfume on her wrists, neck and hair. Timothy just took a shower by getting dressed and combing his hair and in his spare time, phoning Madeleine to look after Edward as Roman accompanies her, in case, if he hasn't got any plans for tonight.

On their first date, the blonde determined herself to be donned in a scarlet red classy cocktail dress as its hem flared across slightly above her round, well-defined knees with satin long sleeves and plunging neckline, exposing partly the delicate, mossy skin of her cleavage and collarbones. Black classy stilettos shoing her petite, brittle feet that were clad in thin, dark stockings as its garters dangled to her hips. Silver with ruby gemstones dropping earrings and rings, slipped in her slim fingers. Her halo ringlet of sleek old Hollywood gilt tresses framed her round, full profile graciously by congesting on her shoulders with the adorning make-up which she didn't have any intentions of applying too much. Solely liberal bright red lipstick, glossing her cherub, full lips along with dim black eyeshadows smeared across her eyelids with the applied midnight black mascara, contouring her long, elegant eyelashes that flittered per a blink.

They left their property shortly after Madeleine's appearance as she came alone in the small family's mansion to babysit the love child of the former religious members of the clergy without being accompanied by her older brother, who was with his friends in a bar tonight to drink beer and prattle shenanigans. Further, the Michiganian solemnly promised her friends that she will take a good care of their son during their absence for the whole night. Within less than a half an hour, the cab was parked in one of the free parking lots, reserving a free lot for the vehicle, while having a romantic dinner in one of the adjacent restaurants that wasn't far away from their house, in case, if they worry for being tipsy and delirium. For their own luck, they were both together instead only one of them as if either of them is murderously intoxicated to have only one driver between both on their way to home.

As soon as they made their own way inside the restaurant which wasn't expensive at all, nevertheless, it could offer exotic ambience and authentic food at first sight, they seated against each other next to the window. The background music's that was emanating from the wall speakers hummed. Notwithstanding the circumstance that a couple of couples have chosen namely to spend their Valentine's Day in the restaurant, whether for a first date or just rerouting their evening routine slightly differently. Whether altering or not exactly. Even if Jude and Timothy didn't alook like those kind of duos or people, who were going out, howsoever, at least, altering their evening roster by replacing a family dinner on the kitchen table and then lulling their little cherub angel with hiring Madeleine to babysit their love child and having fun at least for an entire night which was all their.

"_Took a walk and passed your house late last night__! __All the shades were pulled and drawn way down tight__!_" The Silhouettes by Herman's Hermits hummed in the background with its vocalist's eloquent sonority, chanting the lyrics.

"It looks so exotic there. No wonder why the near restaurants are better than the most luxurious in the whole city!" A sharp, ablaze exhale flared her nostrils, whereas her both hands peeled off the winter pantaletot from her lean arms, thus folding it gingerly on her purse.

"That's absolutely right! Some luxurious restaurants might not offer the best quality food, you know." Assuring, confident smile parted upon his baby-pinkish lips, rubbing unnervedly his clammy palms after one of his hands was turning the steering wheel and the other one rested on Jude's knee during their car journey, sweeping its generous layer of clamminess that stuck on his palms in his pant's knees.

"Fair enough! Some just label insane prices so that their business to not bankrupt and earn even with its shitty quality they offer." What it was oblivious for the middle-aged lady was that one of the main waiters wandered by servicing some horde of clients with reordered food and drinks until her caramel brown pools, mottled with incredulity at her own words and fierceness in her straightforwardness muffling her last words, widening at the waiter. "Oh Jesus H Christ! The waiter! Phew!"

"He's supposed to come over there." The former ambitious Monsignor added, eyeing blankly, glassily the other waiter who was approaching their reserved table with leather covered menus.

"_From within, the dim light cast two silhouettes on the shade__! __Oh, what a lovely couple they made__!_"

"Good evening! " Meantime, the other waiter handed them the menus, while the both former pious members of the church nodded humbly their heads.

"Thank you!"

They spent a couple of minutes in choosing wisely whatever to order for themselves as drinks and meals as Timothy has chosen to order for himself mineral water with Vermont salad, whereas Jude has ordered from the menu Bulleit bourbon along with Italian chickpea salad and mint sundae, embellished with chocolate sticks. The former sleazy nightclub singer ushered the waiter to accept their orders as he jotted them in his miniature notebook, taking notes about his recent customers' ordered meals and beverages.

"_Put his arms around your waist, held you tight__, k__isses I could almost taste in the night__!_"

In a few minutes, their dishes and beverages were served lastly on their booked table by fleeing, leaving them at peace to not disturb their evening.

"Y-Ya have ordered for yarself mineral water?" Her mouth was opened in a soft O, astounded by Timothy's wise decision of ordering something modest instead of inebriating for him tonight. "That's ridiculous, Tim!" Slap on her knee with the flat surface of her palm, followed by her blatant husky snicker that didn't taunt the former aspiring man of the cloth, chewing on his lower lip, whilst removing the tap of the mineral water's bottle, pouring in the empty, unused yet glass some fresh, lukewarm mineral water.

"So as I will drive all night instead of you and that's why I didn't order anything alcoholic." Nonchalance left speechless the blonde due to his chaste in his utterance, whilst raising a toast with bourbon and mineral water even if it's ludicrous, thereafter sipping their glasses. "Likewise, you're breastfeeding almost a five-month-old infant."

"I know but at least that's among the fewest nights I promise I won't violate with the alcohol even if I'm still nursing an infant." In the meanwhile, the Bostonian nagged at him sarcastically, gulping a handful of tiny sips of the sinfully mouth-watering bourbon, consequently licking greedily, gamely her lips as a seductress after savoring the strongest alcoholic beverage, scorching the corners of her mouth and tongue with its insatiable bourbon flavor. "C'mon, Timothy! It's just some bourbon and it won't hurt at all to indulge myself as a mother of almost a toddler."

"_Wondered why I'm not the guy who's silhouette's on the shade__! __I couldn't hide the tears in my eyes__!_"

"I was just joking." The silverware, shiny fork was grasped in her strong fingers, pronging from the Italian chickpea salad by savoring its first bite, munching the fresh crispiness of this mix of vegetables and chicken meat. "You don't get my jokes?" A quirk of his dark, thick eyebrow caught her attention promptly after munching its first bite from her salad, then moving on the mint sundae by spooning from its dessert.

"It sounded like a criticism or as if ya were yelling at me as a parent to its irresponsible adolescent, if that makes sense," After masticating first bite from the mint sundae, lacing her tongue with icy flavor of mint, she cleared her throat gruffily. "I guess!" She emphasized, followed by a demure, quiet giggle.

"I didn't mean to be that mean but, of course, you can drink some alcohol even when it's a special occasion and you're still breastfeeding Edward."

"I get ya. But the food here is really good."

"_Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah__! __Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah__!_"

"I can't disagree with you!" It was the third bite that the British aristocrat was munching from his Vermont salad, unable to control his boyish grin at her, instinctively blooming as a spring flower after enduring the winter months of blizzards, frostbites and snowfalls."I like it so much." After gulping the chunks of its bite, embarrassing snicker was almost dying in the end of his tongue. "Why you look at me like that? Anything wrong?"The suddenness of his posed question questioned her widened ogle at his idiotic, boyish grin, beaming at her as her eyelids submersed soaked, due to the subtly chubby tears of glee that gushed down under lower eyelids, cackling richly.

"The question is what is that grin on yar face," The couple joined in the choir of their rich cackles, drawing partly the almost entire restaurant's attention, in spite of the both former devotional members of the church's oblivion and nonchalance of the other customers' initial reactions, prying, bloodthirsty eyes to discover the core of their cackles after mentioning the punchline of the joke. "While eating yar salad instead of focusing on not choking!"

"So is it against the law to grin at you?" Their jokes didn't have any borders, making some of the customers slapping goofily their foreheads, wondering how mirthful and vibrant they're.

"_Lost control and rang your bell I was sore__! __Let me in, or else I'll beat down your door__!_"

"No, no, of course not! But it looked like as if ya had some kind of news to deliver, ya know."

"I forgot to mention that after finishing our meals, we can go on a party in the club and dance." Her round, big hazelish-brown irises widened at his plans that overflowed as luxurious cataract, filling the empty gaps of their evening plans instead of going home directly or staying in the restaurant for the whole evening. "And have so much fun, of course! It's free party."

"H-Have ya completely lost yar mind?" She gulped hard the lump, limping in her throat at the thought of attending a free afterparty.

"Not at all! I read it in the newspaper this morning."

"_When two strangers who have been two silhouettes on the shade__s__aid, to my shock, "you're on the wrong block._"

\- _A Half an Hour Later _-

Once Jude and Timothy finished with their meals and beverages in the restaurant, they paid the bill as they went in the nearest nightclub that held a free party due to its special day today.

As soon as they set a foot in the nightclub, ocean of people encircled them, outnumbering them. Music was shaking the dancing floor in the background as some dancing people were either inebriated or witlessly kissing or fooling around for example couples and friends. Judy and Timothy opted to evade ramming into one of the strangers embarrassingly unintentionally. They didn't have any intentions of getting themselves in trouble even when the former holy woman was already tipsy, although her adequacy in sorting her mind and managing her words warily without fizzling them frustratingly especially in the toughest condition where the chances were minimal of peeling a single word that makes a sense at least.

They both graciously sat on the convenient bar stools with its backrest. The nightclub was sufficiently shipshaped. The mirror was reflexed their manipulated figures was far from dusty and smeared in filth, toying crystally clear with them if they glimpsed for awhile at least. The exquisitely flush polished bardesk in its eye-catching curly maple had an opulent choice of beverages from non-alcoholic up to the most potent alcoholic to dissolve their nerves and held grudges. They were fed up with the ginormous stress as parents of a baby and most of all, constantly having disagreements. They just wanted a different night. It was namely their night. They could do whatever on the world they hankered for.

Meanwhile, the middle-aged lady's absentminded gaze held its steady scrutiny over the extravagantly oyster-white purse with its Matterhorn teal cigarette pack and the obsidian black comb. It seemed dubious which lady could forget her remarkable items on the bardesk.

"_Every day when the work is behind you__a__nd the shop and the store put the lock on the door__! __Just get away where your worries won't find you__If you like, well I'll tell you more__!_"

"Hello, sir and ma'am! What would you like to drink?" The barman was actually much older man in his early sixties with his well-trimmed moustache, embellishing his scabby, cinereous complexion, inked with natural wrinkles due to the inescapable aging process. His bright, warmwelcoming smile brightly contrasted his looks.

"I'd like some Evan Williams whiskey for me." The former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer ordered in a solemn agreement, earning the skeptical stare of her love interest and the docile nod of the bartender, pursing pensively his berry-coloured lips.

"Jude," He murmured her rhythmical name in honeyed, skeptical voice.

"How about you too, sir?"

"I'd like nothing. Thank you!" Even when the older woman ordered for herself a strong alcoholic beverage, Timothy preferred to sober himself unlike her, who wanted to pamper herself once with alcohol even during her motherhood, resuscitating the old protagonist she used to be back in her younger years. Judy Martin.

"Your drink will be served within a minute, ma'am!"

"Fine!"

"Jude," The emphasis of her wonderful name snapped her gaze from the barman, holding the stare with the former Monsignor. "What are you doing?" He raised an arch of his thick, dark eyebrow promisingly, balefully.

"What do ya think I'm doing, Timothy?" Uneasiness sunk her heart, parting her lips in a seductive pout, whilst waiting eagerly the bartender to prepare the scotch glass by poruing Evan Williams' whiskey in its flimsy scotch glass. "It's our night and I'm the one, who will get drunk and being driven to home therefore." Wry chuckles dronned an ambiguous symphony, whereas one of his mammoth, alleviatingly creamy as baby skin hand lowered, comfortably resting on her knee as paroxysm and paradoxal shivers swamped the pit of her stomach with unspeakable sensual warmness, questioning herself for how long the areas downward abided untouched by anybody. "That feels so nice." In the interval, glance at the hand, surveying within a few seconds the notion of his touch insticted her front ivory, still firm teeth to nibble on her upper lip, reluctant to veil her blushed face and foolhard girlish demeanor by timidly shifting her caramel brown eyes at his cocoa brown eyes as if two matching souls in almost one body were mingling their essences.

"_Don't let the day get the better of you__! __When the evening comes there's so much to do__! __You better put on your best and wear a smile__! __Just come along with me awhile, 'cause I tell you__!_"

"The drink, ma'am!" The barkeeper kept the former nun's wits about her already poured scotch glass, nudging her gently.

"Thank ya so much!" Then she gripped with her solely free hand the scotch glass, chugging a handful of wee sips that laced her tongue with its infernally sinful, heavenly scrumptious savor of whiskey, gasping euphorically by throwing back her head, clutching tightly her eyes after feeling the hazard of heroine's injection sedated its drug through her wrists, pumping its sedating void into her veins.

"I hope I don't violate or causing you some kind of discomf-" Sheepish stammer lurching on his tongue, fluttering the former woman of the cloth's eyelids open, flicking its devilishly succumbing ogle with the greenest hazelish-brown pigment, pigmenting her irises that darted to his chocolate brown.

"What on world makes me discomfortable except," All of a sudden, the younger woman, who was visibly homosexual in her manners surveyed in a scrutiny her own appearance on the clean round wall mirror, sulking her plump peach pink-painted lips, due to the fact, the boredom was killing her and it was coming too much for her. "Except a lesbian to touch or seduce me?" Judy attempted to control her mellow, Boston accent attentively without drawing further attention from strangers especially the nigh woman that sitting alongside her. The scotch glass motionlessly sat on the bardesk. Kneads on her knee caused mellow purrs to the tipsy older woman, cherishing each touch that contacted whether the fabric or her alabaster bare skin. Goosebumps prickled her epidermis briskly.

"E-Excuse me, did you say anything, ma'am?" It was inevitably noted by the homosexual younger lady, temptingly biting her lower lip by shifting her ogle at the former woman of the cloth.

The woman next to Judy was actually her junior's with a decade at least. Approximately thirty-six-year-old. Her skin tone was vaguely tanned after naturally sunbathing it in the hot sunny summer days, blanketing overally with bronze tan. Megawatt, plumpish lips were painted in peach-pink lipstick. She didn't wear much make-up except the prominent lipstick. Her shoulder length ginger strands descended refluently her upper back, framing her oval, bronze-tanned complexion. Honey brown pools with the most piercing succumbing ogle she could ever give to another woman, whether younger or older. The magnetism was far from underestimating. Golden, thick hoop earrings pierced into her delicate earlobes, matching with her glittering silver tank-top with fuzzy charcoal black cardigan with undone buttons and fancy charcoal black slacks with her ankle boots. She looked familiar or that was rather a hallucination due to the hazy blurriness in her vision, not easening her surroundings of the older lady. The lesbian's long, well-trimmed fingernails were polished in royal blue, hardly matching with her outfit. Last but not least, the younger woman was approximately tall as the former holy woman and possessing average body structure.

"I'm sure you've mistaken something, miss." The British compatriot opted to defend his old friend with the taunting enquiry calmly.

"Or yar just kidding."

"_I know a place where the music is fine__a__nd the lights are always low__! __I know a place where we can go at the door there's a man who will greet you__!_"

"No, no, I haven't! I heard somebody between you something saying against the lesbians."

"No, I haven't said anything about the lesbians, miss! If it offended ya, I'm sincerely sorry." In the interim, the former priest got from the barstool after restraining to pay a visit to the restroom to clean himself.

"I'll be right back in a few minutes, ladies!" Even when the former holy man had his own impulsively primary needs, he didn't want to leave Jude for too long alone especially with the homosexual, who had leery intentions of harming her even if the homosexuals were harmless and he had nothing against them. Anyway the priesthood and nunnery taught both of them not only the nymphonamiacity, suicide and homicide, moreover the homosexuality were incarnation of the devil and the sins, strictly keeping their vows unbroken. Nonetheless his promise to be back from the public restroom of the nightclub, he didn't want anything sinister to happen to his old friend and most of all, haunting him with rues for the rest of his days as much as her ignorance what kind of a psycho is Cayden and what he's capable of more than anything.

"So, what's your name?" The younger lady inquired pryingly, without averting her piercing honey brown orbs from her one-night stand interest.

"Judy!" Hesitant hemming almost died on her tongue tip, whilst spelling her name with struggles.

"Judy, I'm Lydia Jane Morrison!" The ginger stretched her hand in an offer for a formal, friendly handshake as the blonde hesitantly swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable. "It's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet ya too!" Shortly after the handshake, the Bostonian sipped of her scotch glass with scrumptious whiskey. "Are you from here?"

"No! I'm from Florida. What about you too?" The southern Floridian accent was too obvious for her without doubting it since the first moment they conversated somehow.

"I'm from Boston."

"Good! Who was that man that went in the restroom?" The suspiciousness in Lydia Jane's enquiry caught off guard the former licentious nightclub singer, almost choking on her words.

"_Then you go downstairs to some tables and chairs__! __Soon I'm sure you'll be tappin' your feet__! __Because the beat is the greatest there__! __All around there are girls and boys__!_"

"Why do ya ask? Isn't it too apparent what's he to me?" Heavy, jaded sigh flushed her chest. Blush trickled her neck, nausea almost immersing her stomach especially if the scarcely acquaintance dared to touch her physically somewhere else than her hand and face.

"Is he a boyfriend of yours?" Lydia hissed by snaking slowly her hand up to her thigh, while Jude opted to increase their proximity, withdrawing herself until the restroom's door notoriously squeaked, deafened by the music, the sea of people chatting with one another and the evening atmosphere.

"Jude!" Breathlessly scuttled up to the both ladies that seated on the barstools, witnessing the scene of sexual molest of Lydia Jane even when Judy wouldn't agree to be touched physically anywhere else than her hand or face by another woman.

"Lydia, what the hell are ya doing?"

"I'm just trying to fool around, you know!" Nausea built its bricks not only in her belly, further, in her throat when she muffled mischievous whisper past the middle-aged lady's petite ear. The masculine, heavy footsteps that neared the women's territory were heedless for the Floridian. "I'm fucking bored and your company pleases me, Judy! This boyfriend of yours must defend you if you truly mean a lot to-" As soon as her petite, calluoused hand reached for her knee, almost perching her fingers on its thin fabric of her stockings, suddenly the Bostonian threw up the amalgamation of consumed restaurant food, bourbon and whiskey on Lydia Jane.

"Rare bird!' The British aristocrat's mumble verged to limp in his throat, squeezing Jude's shoulders by holding her as she verged to fall from the barstool after vomiting on the homosexual who attempted to molest her, holding her in a bridal lift up to the club's exit before it was too late and finding themselves in gruesomely awkward situation, left unnoticed by its partying strangers. "Is everything alright?"

"_It's a swingin' place, a cellar full of noise__! __It's got an atmosphere of its own somehow__! __You gotta come along right now 'cause I tell you__! __I know a place where the music is fine__!_"

"You homophobic jackass, are you bullshitting with me by vomiting on me? Yuck!" Even when the Floridian was mucked with vomit, she growled frustratedly at the couple that was fleeing the club. "You owe me at least five hundred dollars for this outfit."

"S-She tried to touch me." Once the both former devotional members of the church fled the nightclub as their impending destination was the cab, the winter nocturnal wind fanned their hairs and exposed flesh, parching the vomit's chunks that hooked her nostrils and the corners of her mouth, coughing recurringly as if she's choked with the strongest alcohol after quaffing it insanely. "I didn't know what to do except I was so nauseaous when her intentions didn't seem innocent and chaste at all." As soon as the former man of the cloth approached the cab by unlocking it, he laid gingerly the former nun on the backseat by seating on the sole compact free space that was available for him on the backseat to console his rare bird. "I was so scared to be alone with this homosexual."

"It's okay, rare bird! It's not your fault. You're safe!" His colossal, veiny hand managed to reach for her lion mane of sleek gilded tresses, playing with them lovingly, whereas his only free hand cradled her chin, shushing alleviatingly to her, offering her a benevolently nirvanic smile, flashed upon his youthful, parchment complexion.

"When ya were in the restroom, we introduced each other," Chubby twin tears dribbled from her lower eyelids, dew of moistness ruddined her frail eyelids, sniveling incessantly. "We shook our hands and we asked each other for our birth towns and suddenly she tried to play her game by asking me about you if ya were my boyfriend," Pout carved upon her bloody red lips. "I asked her rhetorically with sarcasm without giving her the direct response as she tried to touch my knee until I threw up on her."

"You did everything you could do to prevent the molestation." Then he snatched with his solely free hand from his slacks' pockets a handkerchief to daub her nostrils and mouth, getting rid off the vomitus. "You're so strong, Jude! And that's why I'm so proud of you you didn't allow this lesbian to humiliate you with her belittling game." Her snivel subdued in the background as the last drying tears stained her porcelain, yet young-looking complexion.

\- _An Hour Later or So _-

An hour later after consoling her, he drove to the lake by warily keeping his wits about driving in the middle of the night without letting the distractions get him in a vicious road accident. For less than an hour, the Bostonian rested peacefully on the back seat as she was doubtlessly tired to ask where he drives her and why. The beehive of questions that buzzed subtlely in her throat has already ebbed out on her tongue.

When the vehicle was parked past the lake with a few feet proximity, the younger man adjusted the car seats as he rummaged the luggage carrier for quilt and bedsheets. He had no intentions of undressing himself in nothing else than his boxers, due to that his toned-frame was airbrushed with torpor even when he wanted to cuddle with his rara avis under the moonlight in the cab.

"W-Where are we?" Quivery in her muffled yawn lullied her surroundings with a glance, studying the recent area they've arrived after the nightclub. In the meantime, he readjusted neatly the bedsheets and subsequently setting the convenient quilt to bundle beneath for the rest of the night, watching the depletion of flicking miniature blanched stars in the nocturnal sky.

"Past the lake!" Grunt scratched his throat, reluctant to control it after fixing the bedsheets and quilt altogether for their first date. "Come on, join me!" He maneuvered her with a hand to blanket together under the quilt, blanketing their shoulders and below after kicking off their shoes.

"W-What's all this for?" Intoxication maundered her utterance by burying in the crook of his muscly, strong shoulder her face, suckling on her lower lip coyly.

"No questions, rara avis! That's our love nest up to the next morning." In the interim, the former holy woman rolled on her left until she pinned his body with hers. His aroused crotch poked unknowledgably her pelvis for her nescience. His baby pinkish, soft as velvet lips planted an affectionate, feather kiss on the top of her head, curling a strong, secure arm around her waist, moaning inwardly in a choir. The former woman of the cloth molted dotingly in the kiss. "You mustn't be worried about anything. It makes everything worse." Their hearts hammered vehemently into their chests. They're trapped in their own love nest. Nowhere else than the car.

"D-Darling?" The lovely nickname that just seared her tongue to spill it out as fatal serpentine venom on her recent prey took away by its delicateness of its pronounciation even with her firm Boston accent.

"Yes, my rara avis?" He gripped her chin with a couple of fingers, whereas her both surprisingly sweltering, creamy palms of her hands cupped his cheeks. Fluctuation in their manners and actions were quizzical for them, opting to answer them right away with the right answer before regretting them in the future. "What bothers you?" Their faces were scarcely an inch gapping them.

"N-Nothing! But are ya sure ya want it?"

"I want more than anything to be with you and you to be the first and last ever woman I kiss." Her warm, vomit-stained breath didn't bother him at all, brushing his facial skin with its light zephyr.

Then they relentlessly captured each other's lips in a hardening, steamy kiss, melting into it. Her fingers traced by massaging his cheeks and its symmetric shape, whereas his arm, dangled around her waist grasped, consequently his pristinely long, protective fingers slithered to a couple of stray wild aureate strands, tucking them behind her ear without breaking off the kiss. Their eyes were tightly shut, relishing its steaminess flowing in their veins. Muffled groans and moans clicked their tongues as their kisses grew aggressively ferocious, afterward their wet tongues commenced dueling one another as Timothy instinctively followed Jude's steps, too ashamed to admit it wasn't his first time ever kissing her even when they broke their vow before her eventual pregnancy, nor it was his numberal time. All of a suddenly, she plugged her tongue inside his mouth, whilst his teeth nibbled on her lower lip as they deepened the kiss into a French one, mumbling moans and groans on the back of their tongues. All they craved for was their kiss to endure for eternity, instead for a handful of minutes. Then they broke off the kiss as his hand cradled her long honey mop of curls, taking their time to admire one another's facial features.

"I love you very much, darling! Yar the best thing with Edward I've ever had in my life." The brief confession profoundly touched the once holy priest as his heart skipped a beat rabidly.

"I love you more than anything, my rara avis! You're rather the brightest and best thing you graced us with a special angel, sent from God!" Her eyelids blinked restlessly with scuffle, shortly before drifting off to kip on top of her boyfriend. "You deserve rest, my Jude!" Then he pressed his lips lightly on hers once again, moments before falling asleep abruptly.


	19. Breaking Bad

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

_"I've been on dates where my exes have cooked something delicious even if two of them have admitted they're terrible cooks. And I haven't been with them for years or something. Even one of them with whom I've been for longest time about the seventh month, after we had a delicious dinner and you know what else, on the morning after I woke up in an empty and cold bed. At first, I thought he was making a breakfast for me or at least, he was in the bathroom, showering. Instead, I was in the bed, fully naked and he came in the bedroom, shouting at me without reason to get out of his house. I was quite confused. I didn't get it why right on the seventh month and after making love to each other the last night right after dinner, he wants me out. I asked him what was wrong or something. He just told me to pick up my clothes within a few minutes or he will beat the shit out of me."_

_"What an asshole!"_

_"Here we go with the relaxing bloodbath!"_

_"I'm good. I woke up an hour ago to make coffee for us after doing my morning yoga as well."_

_"Ah! Yar doing the morning yoga. That's doubtlessly healthy and marvelous. Why didn't ya tell me earlier it's part of yar hobbies?"_

_"I do have, in spite of she was slightly, Ya know, she was unpleasantly surprised at first how we're having a baby by breaking a vow and about yar past." _

_"Look what, rare bird! Hi lovely angel! Daddy missed you so much. Jude, she's absolutely wrong what she has talked about my intentions and breaking the vow we took years ago! We used to be a nun and priest years ago and I got you out shortly after you gave a birth to our lovely cherub angel. We're madly in love each other so that this miracle is with us at last and I don't see the mistake, because it's not a mistake what we have done with Edward and leaving the church and Briarcliff for good. If she thinks I'm going to manipulate you and let you down just like the old Timothy Howard would do when he was a blinded by its an ambition priest, that's the biggest lie. Because I've took a vow to not leave you ever again and I'll stay with you no matter the circumstances." _

_"Here you go, little cherub angel! I love you more than anything, Edward Ralph! And I'm so glad you and your Mommy are at home after these tiresome days of loneliness and emptiness. Jude, what are you doing?"_

_"I'm checking the piano."_

_"C-Come on! I thought you were like the other men." _

_"I'm not them, Andrea! I'd rather prefer getting to know you rather than getting laid with you. It's a humiliation."_

_"Good evening!"_

_"Thank you!"_

_"I'd like some Evan Williams whiskey for me."_

_"Jude,"_

_"W-What's all this for?"_

_"No questions, rara avis! That's our love nest up to the next morning. You mustn't be worried about anything. It makes everything worse."_

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _15__th__ of February, 1966_ -

The morning after elapsed quicker than a leaping heart in euphoria, losing its evenly rhythmical heart beat.

As soon as Madeleine came to her senses by slumbering in the second bedroom which was used for guests, she got up by bathing Edward then changing him in conveniently warm baby clothes and feeding him through the baby bottle with his mother's loft breastmilk. Once Madeleine took a good care of the infant, she left him in the children's room to play with his prominent Christmas present which he received from his both parents altogether. The plush teddy bear. The young lady brewed herself some coffee without any quantity of milk and sugar. Once she went upstairs with her mug of morning coffee, whilst her petite-frame was clad in her comfortable pair of chenille pyjama towering the stairway to the second floor to supervise strictly diligently the young boy as a responsible young adult and trusted friend of the owners, her light, feminine footsteps hardly echoed that were shoed in fuzzy, convenient slippers.

"Edward, little cherub angel, guess who's back!" She managed to lower her solely free elvish, alabaster hand to the doorknob, turning it until the door widely opened at the sight of the young boy nipping with his freshly grown ivory teeth the cotton fabric of the stuffed animal's head, his pudgy arms hooked in a hug as if it's his solely trusted friend of his. "Edward!" The emphasis of his first name and the wry smile, indicated across her naturally rosy-coloured, cherub lips contoured her facial features with sternity, setting a foot in the room by leaving askew opened the door, having no spare time to slam it at the moment by leaving the mug of hot caffeine beverage on the dressing table. "Sweetheart, no!" Once the blonde scooted in light, short footsteps up to the infant, she crouched down, stroking lovingly, gingerly his dark hair, nuzzling her delicate nose tip against his alabaster temple alleviatingly sly, in order to snatch subtly the stuffed animal from his embrace. "Edward, it's not healthy to eat your stuffed animals and toys! Mommy and Daddy won't be okay if there are bacterias and germs in your tiny, sweet mouth."

"Nana!" A shrilling bewail floated from his pale lips, generous layer of blush powdered his cheeks with healthy sanguine pigment, tighting his eyelids in wee slits with rivulets crystal-blue drips, trickling downward his round face. His arms were spread in defeat in the thin air, insisting to get back his favorite teddy bear.

"Shu, shu, shu, it's okay, honey!" An affectionate seed was planted on the top of his head, her only free hand gingerly, dotingly caressing his cheek, thereafter the tad of her thumb daubed the trickling chubby tears. "You aren't supposed to be upset when somebody is truly caring about your health. You know who are going to be more upset if you're sick," She rested warily her forehead against his, muffling a yawn while holding the love child of the former members of the clergy's favorite toy. Pause limped in her throat, suckling on her lower plumpish lip, sorting her words and building its bricks of a rational response, rearing as a cape expedition. "Your mom and dad would kill me, of course!"

"Nana!" The friendly, loving nickname that the little boy addressed usually the Michiganian, planted a vibrant seed, consequently flourishing upon her porcelain, youthful complexion. Dab of warmness engulfed the glacial, thick layers that enveloped her flimsy heart. The memorable, sweet moments with not only family and friends, but also children that she collected as scarring memories for the rest of her days, imprinted in the mystery box with memories from the past that were really fascinating and overwhelming, leaving a track after its event. Whether nostalgic or gleeful.

"Here is your friend!" The hoarseness in her chuckle, seconds before handing back the teddy bear to the infant didn't fade away. Edward joined the symphony of the chuckles, babbling Madeleine's friendly nickname he incessantly addressed her. "Haven't you thought of a name for your little friend?" In the meanwhile, the only reply that Edward could give to the flower store's saleswoman was shaking his head in a solemn disagreement, in spite of his limited vocabulary for almost a five-month-old baby. "Oh, I can help as I can be the godmother of your little friend. But first and foremost, is it a girl?" The Michiganian opted to start with simple questions, sufficiently fathoming for the ray of sunshine without hindering him further due to his young age. The maternal instincts instantly unlocked with a special key after being stored inside when she was around children especially her friends' love child. She adored children, regardless how certain peers of her despised kids and couldn't stand them for a single second due to their childish prying and loud nature which was perfectly normal for their fragile age. Furthermore, the children liked Madeleine, however, Edward was a special kid, in her humble opinion. He was the sole infant that was very fond of the young woman.

In a simply strong disagreement, the infant shook his head humbly, an eerie flat line indicating across his baby pinkish lips. It wasn't a frown. Not a warm welcoming smile.

"So it's going to be a boy?" The timidness hesitancy in her enquiry promptly earned the answer she was looking for. Edward bobbed his head in firm agreement, affirming the final answer by identitying his favorite stuffed animal's sex.

"Oh, that's wonderful! I'm sure you share so much in common, I guess." In the interval, she ambled up to the dressing table by gulping a wee sip from the caffeine beverage, distinguishing its temperature that was warmer a few minutes ago, compared to the current moment. "And how we're going to name your pal?" Low hum lingered on her tongue, sipping her cup of morning coffee, attempting to overcome with something unique and genius for the plush teddy bear's name.

"Nana!" Meantime, the little boy's pointed pudgy forefinger at her as an arrow caught her attention in no time after leaving aloof with a few inches proximity the mug, avoiding future, haphazard accidents.

"What? Madeleine?" A sharp exhale hoisted its oxygen from the top of her brittle lungs. "Of course not, little lovely bug! Madeleine is a female name. It would be weird naming a boy with female name, you know!" She readjusted her sitting posture on the carpeted flooring of the children's room. "Okay, let's try again, little lovely bug! What about naming it after your father Timothy?"

"Nah!"

"It's not Timothy. How about that your parents' old pal Frank?"

"Nah!"

"I knew it you want more exoctic names. Sounding like rhymes. Just like your Mommy Judy's name." Then her solely free hand that rested on the young boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently with her fingers, she held the gaze whilst sipping her mug of coffee, throughout layer of caffeine thickly baptizing her youthful teeth, yellowing them faintly, losing its satisfying blanching cleanness and sheer hygiene. Her berry-coloured, caffeine-stained tongue twirled as a fan, licking greedily her cherub, damp lips. "What about Lysander? I'm sure you will agree on this one this time." Smug, vile grin bared her teeth, eyeing the almost toddler's contoured with bliss facial features. Beaming smile flapped its angelic wings, spreading them in the starless sky and hovering upon his chubby, round complexion.

"Ya!"

"So it's Lysander, right?" He managed a nod, whereas the young lady pursed her lips thoughtfully, pausing arching between them with its dispersing colourful arcs of the rainbow. "Hmm! That's a good guess for sure! And I'm officially the godmother of your little friend called Lysander." Afterwards her lean, alabaster arms managed in a lift to heave the weightless body of Edward Ralph, heaving him in the thin air triumphiantly, whilst his hands were occupied with snuggling Lysander the stuffed animal. "Your parents will be very happy that your buddy has a name at last." The young lady got from the ground, spinning with Edward altogether as a whirligig in the middle of the room, whimpering screams as if they were in seventh heaven. "Wee! Woohoo! The big Edward has finally a little pal called Lysander." Madeleine wasn't afraid of showing her childish side which was obvious for her inner circle only like her close friends and older brother Roman. After a several seconds, stars encircled the nausea that swamped the pit of her stomach, migraine aching her whirlpool of thoughts, dropping warily the little boy to play with his plush teddy bear, whilst leaning to pick up the plain, oyster-white mug of coffee. "Oh shit! Another migraine after spinning. Oh God!" In the interim, Madeleine excused herself, walking away from the room by scurrying up to the nigh bathroom, subsequently leaving on the marble sink the colder cup of coffee. She crouched down by opening the toilet seat fully, whereas bending down, encouraging the nausea to outcrop immediately. The recurring coughs, forcing the vomit challenged her, the chenille pyjama trousers contacting the cool tiled bathroom flooring as her knees scarcely ached. "Crap!" All of a sudden, she threw up, allowing the bog of cataract flowing from her tongue downward to the toilet water, staining it with uneven, olive-green liquid. Within a half a minute she got from the flooring, flushing the toilet water, while her other hand wiped with its flat back the vomit-stained lips gracefully, turning the sink's faucet as jet water ran to rinse her nostrils, mouth and lastly her blanched face after dizziness. She didn't even dare to glance at the wooden framed mirror, hanging over the sink to notice any obnoxious detail behind her manipulated reflection, mirrored on the frail glass.

After rinsing her nostrils, mouth and face, she gripped by the handle the porcelain mug, fleeing the bathroom without an ado.

"It's a lovely morning after Valentine's Day, isn't it, Harry?" The middle-aged lady's radiance in her inquiry earned a beam at her from her partner, his strong, leanly muscular arm snaked around her waist. "Huh?" The slums were far from boisterous and overcrowded with abundance of strangers, pacing on the sidewalks in the wee hours of the morning.

"It's, Andrea! I'm so happy to go on a walk in the morning." Meanwhile, the blonde rested her head on his muscly, broad shoulder, emitting raspy chuckle after earning a peck on the top of her head. "With you!"

"After drinking hot chocolate down the streets, for sure!" The smile inclined to flourish into a grin. Beehive of small, translucent snowflakes, dancing in its sluggish pelt touched gently their exposed pale hands to the natural daylight, blanching the knuckles' epidermis.

Eventually Andrea and Harry the day before spent it in hikes, watching the black and white television's pictures that displayed on the prostitute's television screen and having a romantic dinner in her house as they both cooked together, putting humongous efforts in their homemade meal. The dimness of the mid-February sun's scintillating sunrays gleamed saturating spots, marking its own territory for melting the snow and icy sidewalks.

"What's going on?" The sudden choir of shot bullets snapped them out of the serenity that blanketed them under its warm quilt. On the other side of the slums, Lydia Jane was armed with a real pistol, aimed directly at the burglars that opted to break into the closed flower store, panicking them as they're running for their lives as if they're swift enough, it would strongly depend on their life and the trial they've been through. "What are those shoots?"

"I don't know this woman but she does definitely something good for the flower store's owners.I really can tell." In the meanwhile, two pairs of inquisitive dark orbs were darted to the terrified burglars, who were three men, visibly apparently approximately their 30s.

"Stay away from the flower store, you little bastards! I gotcha you!" The Floridian sped up to them to catch them, whilst loading the bullets for the impending shot at the solely fleeing offender until his head was shot unlike his both allies, whose legs were pierced with bullets. Their stamina was far from potent to embolden them to get from the ground, sitting on their knees on the glacial asphalt like wounded animals during the hot season of hunting. Wicked snicker clicked the roof of her mouth, far from reluctant to linger on her tongue. Adrenaline pumped into her veins.

"Shut up you dyke! The fact that you've a gun, that doesn't mean we're afraid of you!" The second man licked greedily his dry, cracked lips, whilst the duo eyed apprehensively the scenery of shoot.

"Let me explain this to you, Mister!" Meanwhile, the ginger stomped his spine, crouching down haughtily past him, whilst her feet stomped inescapably afflictive, barely having any intentions of releasing him from her trap. The gun contacted his creased forehead in obvious terror, contouring his facial features. "I have the gun which makes everybody to run like chickens as you did. But you the burglars are so pathetic hypocrites, thinking you're the best and unfearable bastards in town." She furrowed her eyebrows, twirling her tongue playfully instinctively. "I'm not even scared from both of you!" In two swift bullets, the other two men were already shot dead, luxurious, viscuous blood pool oozed from their shot areas, christnening underneath their corpses, whereas the homosexual puffed the gun's muzzle as a hot morning coffee, pooling its coffee liquid in a mug. "The job is already done."

"Whoa, triple headshots with three bullets!" The younger man's emphasis provoked the older lady's husky, inward chuckle, patting affably his shoulder as they tiptoed by from façade they were hiding and watching the massacre's sequence. "We shall go."

"Yeah, before this woman catches us in a big trouble and aiming the gun right at-" Meantime, the hooker nudged her partner's shoulder, shushing him as a caution to keep quiet until they establish in the other part of the street peacefully.

"Shh, Harry! I don't want even to imagine what would happen if she aims the gun at us." Their bashfully light footsteps tried to not catch any further attention, nor echo against the glacial, almost endless rug.

"Hey! You the birds in love." Suddenly the younger lady approached Andrea and Harry, lowering the gun without menacing them heinously unless they're endangering whether her safety or somebody else's. "Where do you think you're going?" A crescent arc inked across her bright pink lips.

"On a hike. Why you're asking us?" The younger man grasped his snaked arm around the blonde, pulling her towards him overprotectingly, in case, if the redhead plotted their homicide. The suspicious posed question sketched Harry and Andrea's faces with somber, achromatical hues. Their hearts sunk, risking their lives to be took by the redhead.

"I didn't mean to have any malicious intentions, but I don't even know if I have to trust you for something really prominent and discreet."

"What do you mean with this, miss?" The single mother's posed question taunted the younger woman's quirking brow, forming a pucker on her eyebrows' cusp. In the meantime, the blonde wedged her lips in a thoughtful, attentive purse. Goosebumps bristled overally her epidermis after the bone-chilling scene. "You're confusing.""

"What I'm exactly confusing both of you with? You think I would like to kill both of you along with these misters, who are smeared in its blood pools in their eventual afterlives? Huh?" They averted for a split second their gazes from Lydia Jane, glimpsing at the motionless corpses as Harry's jaw chattered balefully, having no intentions of dumping Andrea and leaving her on her own. "Of course, I'm bullshitting with both of you! You won't be dead, because I doubt you'll be a danger."

"First and foremost, what do you want from us, miss?"

"What I want from both of you?" At the moment, the lesbian's face closed its gap with the hooker's, sharing almost no inch proximity. "To know about one guy that is responsible for kidnapping a former nun and trying to rape her, but he fortunately got arrested and unfortunately, escaped the hellhole!"

"Cayden Gray, right?"

"Exactly, ma'am! I'd like to know if somebody between both of you had some kind of contact with him." The Floridian put the revolver in her coat's inner pocket.

"I did during my temporal custody in jail." The single mother's confession drew momentarily the homosexual's attention.

"And?" Then the proximity increased with a few more inches, making less uncomfortable the middle-aged woman, nibbling on her lower lip at the emphasis of Lydia. "Did he try to hurt you or having any bad intentions?"

"Of course not! We shared one another's stories of our past and how his family is still loving and supporting him, despite he's a vile serial killer with no mercy for slaughtering women and girls." Flushing reluctant deep breath as retrospection before the sequel of the monologue that unzipped her lips, holding the brutally honest stare with Lydia Jane. "And his daughter and older brother are going to have a revenge on the flower store owners along with its manager's boyfriend."

"Oh whoa! I didn't know how evil and manipulative is Cayden along with his family. Did you say anything to him?"

"Well, I tried to convince him to be diplomatic with the flower store managers but he refuses to listen to me."

When the dim sunlight filtered the parked vehicle' windows with saturating duvet light, illuminating their pale as lily-white faces, a muffled yawn zinged the former holy woman's dry, bright red painted lips with its mild smear across her and her boyfriend's jaw. Once her groggy eyelids blinked in a recurring frequence, rubbing them with her fashioned in balled fists knuckles, callouses crinkling the delicate skin of her knuckles until the fuzziness faded away, blinking once again allowing to freshen her vision until her knuckles were with smeared with dark eyeshadows and mascara, inked irritatingly. Grunt in low voice floated from her lips, evading further drama in the early morning and waking up the former priest from his beauty coma.

Was he awake? Or Timothy was just pretending to kip beyond peacefully?

A few questions submerged her ocean of thoughts by turning to the other side, fortunately, coming to the conclusion he wasn't awake yet. She didn't have any intentions of disturbing him. The sight of the British compatriot without stirring and moving any single muscle relieved her. He looked so handsome, while he's sleeping like baby, in her humble opinion. The grasp of his hooked strong, muscular arm around her waist wasn't even bothering the blonde.

Anyway her honey brown embers were lost on surveying in a scrutiny his charming facial features as if Jude was inspecting a hand carved onyx marble statue, admiring its uniqueness by God's creation of her former boss. The lactescent skin tone, overally blanching his epidermis from head to toes. The delicate, symmetric structured nose with its nose tip that could molt her as a chocolate in an Eskimo kiss. The well-scuptured, carved by human flesh cheekbones and healthy chubby cheeks, merged altogether which could be peppered with feather, delicate cheek kisses all over the fleshy capes with light, unbothering blush touching them. The thick, dark eyebrows that motionlessly snoring in his sleep, howsoever, quirking, furrowing and narrowing while articulating the real faces of bewilderment, disgust, contempt, glee, misery and fury, depending on the eyebrow's tilt and angle. And now, utterly focusing on the full cherub, pale-pinkish with faint smear of ravishing red lipstick after the passionate kiss they melted and shared the last night. One in a million lips she could solely kiss and she wondered how does come a pious man with rich career and experience in the priesthood have such enchanting facial features, reckoning his lips. One in a million lips the former holy woman could long to not break off a kiss. The light scaring, scraped on his lower lip was excessively questionable for her. Perhaps a childhood incident befell him and that's why the incident affected with a scar on his lip irreparably. Eventually the British aristocrat has never talked about the scar on his lip and he hasn't even hinted it. Childlike inquisitiveness to find out more about his scar suddenly refilled the pool of thoughts.

All of a sudden, grunt escaped his lips just seconds before stirring, flopping on her side, grasping his snaked arm circa her slim waist as her slim, long as piano keys fingers combed playfully his dark hair, admiring the fresh softness adjoining her fingers' anatomy. His eyelids fluttered in a blink, grogginess staining in the first blinks. A relieving smile indicated across the former nun's plumpish lips at the sight of her boyfriend's awaked condition.

"Morning, Timothy!" The softness of her Boston accent tingled as the eloquent morning birdsong, returning the smile as his berry-coloured lips curled in the beam.

"Morning, rare bird!" It's unbelievable the last night." Mumble slipped from his tongue with his velvety, British accent, his only free colossal hand managed to reach for her disheveled fistful of long honey curls, tucking them meekly behind her ear. Softness contoured the former licentious nightclub singer's facial features, highlighted with the saturating sunlight.

"If yar talking about the river's sleepover, you're absolutely right!" Wryly husky chuckle didn't fade within a couple of seconds, lowering her delicate hands to the well-carved jaw line, cupping it while holding the piercing ogle. "I didn't think ya will drive us after I was so drunk here."

"I know, but it didn't hurt to have some romantic experience there!" A fistful of unruly gilt tresses were mopped from her face, fully refining her round profile. "Isn't that correct?"

"Definitely!"

"Didn't you like it?"

"I love it how creatively organized was. I thought we're about to be at home after the accident in the nightclub with that homosexual bitch." In the meanwhile, nuzzles, sealing the hollow gap clung the both former devotional members of the church in an Eskimo kiss, muffling warm morning breaths, staining their teeth until Timothy's berry-coloured, soft as satin lips reached for her forehead, dumping an affectionate peck.

"So as we promised together the night was all ours, correct?" Docile, humble nod in solemn agreement affirmed his words with low, silver-tongued humming as a weak car engine's buzzing. "That's right. Even if that lesbian tried to molest you or something, it didn't mean to entirely ruin the fun we had and the fantastic romantic experience by driving us to the lake and sleeping in the car, while Maddie is minding her business with Edward."

"I think you're definitely right! Even if something tries to ruin a good experience, it didn't mean for the whole day." Thumbs traced featherly the well-carved cheekbones. "Timothy," The emphasis of addressing his first name drew his attention momentarily.

"Yes, my rare bird?" Silence hushed in the immobile cab, capturing her lips. "Is anything wrong?" Shortly after the kiss, the hushing silence was quizzically foxing him as if the things didn't seem alright at all.

"Not exactly but I just noticed that ya have a scar on your lower lip while you were asleep." The huskiness in her voice didn't ebb out immediately, the tad of her thumb brushing lightly his lower lip, admiring its softness. "Is it a childhood accident?"

"Yes, I had a childhood incident. I was actually involved in a car crash when I was like 10 years old only." Sarcastic, half-hearted snigger tickled the corners of his mouth. "My older brother John, who tried to drive our father's car on the parking lot under my father's supervision hit accidentally a tree as we just flinched. I hit unintentionally my lower lip in the closed car's window glass, scrapping my lower lip. It bleeded for a few hours and my older brothers tried to treat it with a disinfectant and cotton. Despite their efforts, it was just a scar. It couldn't be removed or vanish with the time." He bit his lower lip uneasily at the thought of his childhood memory that was outstandingly memorable, imprinted in his ocean of thoughts and memories. "John loved the risky stuff. My father just hit his head. Anyway John apologized for the car's damages he's responsible for." Deep breath surged from the top of his brittle lungs. "My father didn't allow him to drive any vehicle unless he collects the sufficient amount of money to pay for the damages."

"On one hand, I think yar father doesn't have the right to force one of his kids when they're still minors and unemployed to pay for something they're responsible for as their gooses are cooked." The firm, stern response resurrected her philosophical, argumentative side where ugly disagreements would doom the debatable topic. "Second, if Edward was like teenager and he caused damages to our car, of course, I wouldn't force him to pay the entire price, ya know! John was still a kid."

"But anyway John worked as a salesman for vegetables and fruit downtown. My father trusted him until the vehicle's damages and then he tried to alienate as much as possible from my older brother. John was treated as shit from then."

"Well, even as a salesman for veggies and fruit it won't gurantee ya to pay something obnoxiously expensive unless you save the money for a few years without daring to risk any cash to be spent on anything from yar savings."

"My family is tremendously…tremendously wealthy, but I supported John and I tried to tell my father when I was like fifteen-year-old boy that was absolutely wrong to treat him as nothing than a human waste for something he did years ago." Heavy sigh flushed his toned, once constricted chest, releasing the encumbering oxygen ounce. "Anyway my father was too stubborn to listen to me. He still blamed John though he paid for the damages. However, my dad wouldn't forget and move on, thinking that by judging the past he could be the goddamn right. Furthermore, John doesn't live in the mansion. He's living now in Edinburgh with his wife and being happily married with two lovely daughters." His front ivory, yet firm pair of teeth suckled on his lower lip bashfully, absently, attempting to recollect his thoughts, sorting the words before slurring them. "John and his family came only for like Christmas and Easter. He didn't care about dad anymore when he opened a new chapter in his life for being treated as nothing else."

"I can finally see for who's is yar father. I genuinely don't blame your older brother why he's emigrated in Scotland, staying away from your father. Your father acts like a choad without giving a single shit about yar brother. That's not okay!" The vulgarity in her last sentences flushed the younger man's face with generous, unhealthily sweltering heat underneath his cheeks with blush, powdering them. Frown replaced her beaming smile.

"You're so right and no wonder why John hates my father so much! It's so childish of my father side." In the interval, the former sister of the church's stomach growled aggressively, yearning for modicum of food or anything to fill the hollow pit of her stomach, evading health issues for future. "It seems we should go home as soon as possible. Aren't you actually peckish?"

"I could say so and I'm completely sure Maddie is going to kill us for being so late at home."

"That's fine! She knows right away the last night we wouldn't be back at home, because it was our night. The whole night itself." A small smile dripped across her lips, grinning at the emphasis. Another aggressive growl of the older lady's stomach caught them off guard, seizing her lips in a sheepish purse. "Jesus Christ! Your stomach growls like a wolf. We shall find the nearest grocery store on our way to home for some crackers and mineral water. I can't stand watching you starving and dehydrated."

"I'll be fine to handle up to home without spending a single dollar on crackers and water." Her stubbornness, of course, taunted him, raising an arch of his eyebrow, nudging her to get up by folding the bedsheets and quilt and putting them back in the luggage carrier. The warmness that once overspread all over their facial skin was chilled with its natural common cold climate, compensating the hours they've spent bundled up without having any intentions to flee the comfort zone, lingering for hours. "No! Five more minutes!" The Bostonian mewed a headstrong whimper, crossing her arms with pout, creasing her lips while aiding him to fold the bedsheets and quilt.

"We have to find the nearest payphone to talk to Maddie, informing her that we will be at home very soon so that to stop her worries at all." The grin wiped off from the Bostonian's parchment complexion. "And of course, to fill your belly with something enough to stop these growls. I don't want you to have health issues, just because of starvation and accepting not enough amount of food."

"Of course, we'll! Yar worries must stay away as well. They're bugging off the hell out of me." When they finished with folding the bed equipment, thereafter they put in the luggage carrier, whilst the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer rummaged the glove compartment for tissues, yanking them by dropping on her lap and snatching a napkin, whereas her only free hand dragged the visor. The compact glass mirrored the manipulated reflection of her face, daubing with the napkin the luxurious layer of eyeshadows, mascara and then regrabbing a second napkin for her lipstick, smearing it by implying the full removal of her make-up from the night before. "Oh thank God, the last night shitty make-up is out of my face! I ruined it this morning." At the moment, the back seats were adjusted by default and Timothy sat alongside her.

"No pressure just because you haven't eaten anything this morning," Meanwhile, she turned to face him, sealing her naturally roseate, cherub lips with his into a hardening, passionate kiss, silencing her resilient inner voices and demons of grumbles, dying on her tongue. The tissues were discarded back in the glove compartment with the balled puckered napkins after getting rid off the make-up. The palms of her amusingly warm, smooth as silk hands cupped his cheeks, whereas his both hands warily held her waist steadily. "Okay?" After they broke off the kiss, fluttering open their eyelids, halting in realization of the inevitable tasks they're supposed to do. The sweetness of the kiss succumbed them, yearning to be as eternal as the wretched, timeless's souls to roam the mortal world they're once mortal guests with uninvited ethereally eternal souls, seeking peace unless their quests are accomplished.

"Needless to say! I'm so sorry for being so harsh and cold. I just loved the idea of watching the river, while being in the bedsheets in the car."

"There's no reason to be sorry for. I completely understand you, Jude!" His mammoth, comfortingly creamy hand managed to tower up to her cheek, cupping it, whereas the tad of the thumb tracing lovingly her well-defined, symmetric cheekbone. "Everything is going to be fine soon when you're fed and hydrated and we see our little cherub angel and Maddie!" The bland, insurmountable apology of the former religious woman of the cloth wasn't to be blamed for and Timothy definitely could forgive her easily whether for her ire or blindness of discovering the truth later than the usual.

\- _A Half A Hour Later_ -

The cab glided smoothly the freshly clean paths by the obstinate ice and snow as the car radio lowly hummed, whilst the both former pious members of the church sung together by finding the nigh grocery store nigh the gas station to refill some fuel on their way to home, in fact, the vehicle was almost out of fuel. It had a yen for its gasoline food, emboldening it somehow to proceed with its adventurous journey.

Once the vehicle was parked on the sole free parking lot of the gas station, catching one of the gasmen's attentions, who was visibly youthful and vulnerable, nonetheless, naïve wasn't parallel to his vulnerable youth. He was just in his early thirties and slightly younger than the former ambitious Monsignor.

"I promise I'll be back with a bottle of water and a package of crackers to be on your feet." A feather, tender peck on the lips electrified the goosebumps, prickling her sensitive epidermis, whilst the gasman was approximately the luggage carrier, circling up to the driver's seat as his destination. "Stay in the car, rara avis! I won't be out for too long."

"Mhm!" Jude managed a humble nod, affirming his promise. The low humming radio halted in fading away in the background as Timothy stroke gingerly the mane olf golden wavy hair encouragingly, lovingly after holding her chin during the brief peck, holding their stares until he got from his cab with his wallet.

After the older man ordered how much exactly liters of gasoline to be applied to the car, subsequently he ambled up to the grocery store to pay for the gasoline's price along with the mineral water bottle and crackers' package within a few minutes.

The middle-aged lady suckled on her lower rosy-coloured, plump lip at the sight of her boyfriend shopping in the gas store until the prospect of a young woman, visibly in her early 20s with dark hair just like Timothy's pigment, howsoever, somewhat longer than the former sister of the church's hair with his pair of chocolate brown coals, ignited with the most fierce flame, blazing them whenever ire or vexation creased upon their facial features when their emotions and feelings were erupting, reflecting its surface. What it struck Judy about the prospect was that the young lady opted to test somehow the former holy man's patience by everlastingly being after him until he turned to her by knowing her infamous family's background and menacing balefully they'll be eradicated if somebody dares to hurt him, Jude or somebody else from their inner circle with malicious intentions. Then he went to pay for the crackers, mineral water bottle along with the gas and leaving the shop without an ado.

"Anything wrong, darling?" The suddenness of her posed question after he opened by her side's car door to handle the mineral water bottle, removing its tap effortlessly, consequently swigging greedily, wolfily as if she's never seen ever water in her life, whereas the crackers' packet laid motionlessly on her lap except grinding on one of her hips while moving lightly, unknowledgably its thigh muscle. A weak smile with its loving feminine aura tried to assure the once holy priest. Meantime, his cocoa brown embers, ignited with flashing fury and adrenaline that also pumped into his veins by peeping over the parked car's roof, noting Martha paying for her iced coffee. "Darling?" Velvetness emphasized the friendly romantic nickname, nudging him by snapping him out of his mirage and thoughts.

"It could be. It didn't really look like if you watched from the car the scenery in the gas store. She was saying dreadful things about us and plotting a delicious slaughter of our family." He gulped the lump in his throat, not managing to release insurmountable oxygen, shifting his cocoa brown orbs up to the older woman, softing his facial features, ameliorating his adrenaline and impulsive wrath attached to his gaze once. "She threatened me I'll be the first one whose grave she will be dancing on with her father and his uncle." The crackers' packet was snapped in a swift motion opened. Sufficiently large gap unwrap its ingress, while the Bostonian attentively listened to each pelt word of the former ambitious Monsignor, retrieving a couple of low-fat, crispy crackers, lingering on her tongue after a half a day of scarcity. Widened pair of round, big citrine-hazelish pools in terror, almost choking, forbidding the munched crackers on small chunks to gush further downward until they fill the stomach.

"Jesus H Christ! I knew it Cayden that psychotic bastard will tell absolutely to his family or whoever it could be to plot our assassination even slaughter."Then her throat allowed swallowing the chunks freely without coughing and stifling, gulping them simply. The sharpness of her northern lilt, typical for the Bostonians grousing the utterance casted shadows on the couple's faces until Timothy peeped over the car's roof once again, making sure Martha has left the store for better without disturbing them. It didn't feel same with a young lady especially the daughter of the notorious serial killer, roaming Vermont's outskirts like a plague. Somber, bleak vibes of insafety and instinctive endanger contaminated them. The weak smile faded in an eerie flat line, sketched perpendicularly on her full, roseate lips. "I didn't suspect even Cayden has a family that support his atrocities after for trying to rape me after sedating me and throwing me as a corpse in the attic, locking me up in a cage and the brutal murders, kidnaps and rapes of other girls who're already eliminated. He eliminates anything feminine." Martha was already pacing the gas station, strolling nonchalantly up to Jude and Timothy. A smug, sarcastic grin brushed across her lips as her heeled ankle boots clicked against the cemented flooring, producing monotonous click. "Is she outside?"

"We need to get out of her even if there's a payphone. It's not safe to call Maddie from here." All of a sudden, when Martha charged up to the British aristocrat, gritting her teeth fiercely, the car's door slammed into her face as soon as for Timothy's own luck Jude cautioned him they're already endangered by nobody else than the only daughter that the infamous serial killer had. "I don't trust this place as much as that bitch outside, trying to break into our car." Meanwhile, the car doors inside were already locked as a second nature of relief and welfare for the both unwed parents. Fashioned in a balled fist with its bulging on her fragile knuckles callouses tapped balefully on the former man of the cloth's glass, trying to attract modicum of attention at least and keep his wits about the brunette outside.

"You won't get away for too long. There's no way even to escape me, my father or my uncle. Dance on your graves will be," Pause shimmered her voice once the car engine commenced to buzz, the cab being pulled off from the gas station in no time as a ghost that had abundance of abilities in his afterlife. Reappearing and disappearing within a second. "Perfomed! Dammit!" Grunt scratched her throat, extracted with irritation and higher, unhearable decibels that resuscitated the hushing atmosphere. "Run as quickly as possible, namby-pambies! One day I know what exactly will happen to you but I'll watch with enormous pleasure and enthusiasm what awaits you as a destiny you've did to yourselves."

\- A Half an Hour Later or So -

"Here we go, honey!" Jubilant giggle floated from the Michiganian's throat, while cradling the young boy that was seating on her lap on the porch, snuggling in a grasped embrace his favorite stuffed animal. Soft, maternally delicate hand ran over his chestnut, soft hair texture, admiring its fresh softness as a blossoming plant in its gardens. The natural mid-February common chilly climate waned the warmness and both organisms' temperatures even without an ease since Madeleine and Edward were swaddled in winter pantaletots, hugging their frail skeletons. Optimistically content smile swayed across her naturally mauve, soft as velvet lips at the sight of Edward. "Lysander is also impatient to see his uncle and aunt." Heavy sigh suddenly flushed her chest, glancing at the Victorian style polished gates, nibbling on her lower lip, danking it with mouthful saliva, glistening the sensitive skin of her bottom lip. "Oh God! How long it's going to take them to be at home? They haven't even phoned me once that they're on their way to home or they're safe at least."

"Nana!" The haphazardness of the broken ice bulked the juvenile blond, darting her honey brown irises, mottled with the most glowing hazelish pigment at the little boy, beaming back at him even with a simple gaze. He offered his plush teddy bear in protracted arms in the air kindly, babbling to her friendly nickname he addressed her. "Nana!"

"Needless to say, little cherub angel! You're absolutely right that I mustn't be upset that your parents are so irresponsible to let me know even if they're still alive." The plush teddy bear was scooped along with the infant in a kindhearted, doting embrace, pinching playfully, lovingly with a couple of slim fingers the alabaster skin of the infant's chubby cheek. "But do you know what, little sweet cupcake?" Her inquiry drained his absentminded highlight of his facial features, giggles choired. "I hope they're fine." A fingertip traced featherly Edward Ralph's nose tip as a cape on a geogprahical map.

At the moment, the incessant buzz of car engine choired as the vehicle was parked beside the Victorian style iron gates as Timothy got from its vehicle, in order to open its wings, spreading and flapping motionlessly.

"Hey, look who's home!" A pudgy forefinger pointed at the both older adults and the car, shifting his attention to the haphazard appearance of his parents after being babysitted by Madeleine, curling his tiny toes in his shoed feet. "Mommy and Daddy!" When the former members of the clergy parked eventually the cab in the yard after the exquisitely polished gates were shut and locked, throughout the both older adults fled the car as Timothy's first task was to retrieve the bedsheets and quilt from the luggage carrier and the already used, one-off napkins in the glove contrapartment.

"Oh hi, Maddie and sweetheart!" In the meanwhile, the juvenile blonde handed the weightless body of the infant to the former devotional woman of the cloth, scooping him in a tight, warm hug by sitting alongside her friend on the porch. "I'm truly sorry for being so absent with your Daddy, but everything will be good, I promise!" Gentle peck mapped the little boy's head as his face was buried in the crook of Jude's arm, patting gingerly his back with the flat surface of her palm. Incredulity and incongruity were inked on Madeleine's porcelain, young-looking complexion, wryly snickering to herself. "What's so funny, Maddie? Spill the tea!" It wasn't unnoticed by the middle-aged woman, shifting her gaze to her friend.

"You didn't bother to not mention why you're so absent and irresponsible, Jude! Stop being so childish!"

"Don't be so ironic, Maddie! There was a payphone on the gas station but it wouldn't be a wise choice to pay for a call for a few minutes. Cayden's daughter was on the gas station, threatening my boyfriend on whose grave she's going to dance on, besides her father and uncle." In the interim, the former sleazy nightclub singer's sensitive nostrils flared, rocking faintly, reassuringly loving her little sweet ray of sunshine in her scooped embrace. "And she was so dangerous and suspicious young woman!"

"Did Timothy confront that psychotic bitch?"

"He did. And that's why we left the gas station in no time after he bought me some crackers and a mineral water bottle."

"Judy!"

"Yes, darling?"

"I owe you an apology for being so brash and blinded by my childlike anger for being so late and for not calling me to keep my wits about your safety and being on your way to home, but," As soon as the British compatriot finished with taking certain stuff inside the two-story property as the cab was already locked, consequently he stepped on the porch, ushering Jude and Madeleine to enter inside without delaying. In the interval, they set a foot inside by walking inside the kitchen, seating on the kitchen table. "But I didn't really realize somebody is going to threaten your lives that harshly as if it depended on th-"

"Everything is alright, dear! Ya aren't supposed to apologize, because there's no reason. And it wasn't our fault the crazy daughter of Cayden was lurking around." Whilst bouncing the almost five-month-old baby, her only free hand reached for the Michiganian's by taking it into her petite, secure. The thumb of the former nun's hand managed to knead the back of the Michiganian, while the British aristocrat was on the countertop, retrieving clean, unused glasses. "Maddie, I hope you're alright and collect some rest, because I and Timothy sincerely appreciate your hardwork for looking after our lovely ray of sunshine. So Edward, tell us if Maddie was a good Nana." Then the middle-aged lady's caramel brown embers, igniting its coals of sheer love, warmness and benevolence ablazed them instantly lowered approvingly to the infant's chubby, round face, earning his mirthful, glowing gaze.

"Nana!" The sheer glee in the young boy's utterance wore a thousand patterns of felicity, convincing the middle-aged mother she's right.

"So Nana Maddie was a good Nana! I understood ya, honey!" Her fingers lowered to the brittle knuckles' highlands, admiring her youth.

"Would you like something to drink, ladies?" Even when Timothy felt like a third wheel between Madeleine and Judy, anyway the posed question wasn't unarguably overlooked, attracting their attention after closing the kitchen cabinet.

"Just a glass of water for both of us! That's all what we want, Tim!" The young lady ordered persistently, gulping a solid lump in her throat afterwards, whereas the faucet was turned. Generous layer of jet water running like a waterfall as the glasses were filled with fresh, lukewarm water until the faucet was turned off and he handed to his rare bird and friend the glasses of water gentlemanly. "Why thank you, Tim! God bless you for being incredible gentleman and having everything that makes you happy!" A diligently content smile flexed his jaw line once he seated against Madeleine by opting to caress his son's well-scultured dimples with his delicate fingertips.

"Thank ya, sweetie!"

"No need to thank me for anything, ladies!" Gamely, amicably wink at the both women, breaking off the eye contact with the baby by fixing his paternally doting stare from the baby for a split second at the Michiganian and Bostonian. Half-hearted snigger indicated his lavishly openhanded nature, articulated into his actions and gentleman behavior towards the feminine sex. "God bless you too, Maddie! For your intelligence, youthful down-to-earth character that keeps you rationality as strong as the reality. And of course, your selfless and unique nature!" The short prayer and clauses of listing what Timothy recognized Madeleine for as a special and one of a kind friend sent a tig of warmness and platonic love.

"Your generosity always makes us feeling so special, Timothy! And thank you for your kindness and your prayer!" After taking a modest sip from her glass of water, the juvenile blond left aside the glass on the dining table and squeezing the former nun's petite, smooth hand.

"You deserve it. All of you! There's no reason to thank me since it's just a part of me doing something to brighten you." He resat on the dining table again, this time by sitting alongside his girlfriend whose arms were occupied with their love child, bounced and rocked up in its embrace to alleviate him if a whine or high-pitched blubber was spiraling in the back of his tiny throat. "The real gentlemen will never treat a woman or a girl like their own toy or possession."

"That's goddamn right! I'm strongly promising with that loving, nonetheless, slightly strict discipline at home about our sweet cupcake that," Her round, huge caramel brown pools with the warmest caramel were transfixed on the round, chubby face of her four-month-old son. Mouth opened in a wide, meek grin. "As he grows up and being part of me and Timothy, he'll be the next generation gentleman after his father! He will treat every lady, no matter if it's a girl or a full grown-up woman with full respect and admiration."

"Judy, that's what I'm exactly thinking what kind of a man he'd grow up in the next fifteen years at least or less!" Her solely free hand's slim, elegant fingers, curled around the flimsy glass with pool of water were heaved until a handful of blameless sips hydrated the juvenile saleswoman.

"Since we used to serve the diocese, what kind of a child do you expect to rise on our own, Maddie?" Pure sarcasm was emphasized in the inquiry, thought-provocingly twirling his berry-coloured tongue, stroking gently his girlfriend and son's hairs by separating a quarter a minute per a family member without disappointing them at any cost. "A future criminal?" The punchline of the joke hurted Judy and Madeleine's bellies of a good laughter, while the guffaws blew up blowmindingly the entire kitchen, giving the kiss of life to the two-story mansion's atmosphere and gagging the silence resiliently.

"A future criminal is instantly eliminated!" At the moment, the young lady snapped firmly, headstrongly. "I can't imagine this…this lovely ray of sunshine in the next few decades, whose parents used to be a priest and a nun as this ex-nun is now a saleswoman in a flower store," Hemming gulped in the back of the juvenile flower store's saleswoman throat whilst molding a balled fist as the heel of her hand contracted on her lap. Pair of hazelish-brown, childlike orbs darted to the little boy with sheer affection and innocence. "To be part of corrupted organizations or being himself, corrupted and being the danger and in danger in the same time with his deeds. The future is so unpredictable, but a future criminal would never be his future job or occupation." All of a sudden, ring humming emanated from the front door, drawing promptly the adults' attentions, startling and rolling their eyes. "Who the hell it could be that troublemaker on the front door?"

"I think it's a better idea if I should check who's on the door!" The former religious holy woman suggested by overpowering her pryingness and taking the responsibility instead of Madeleine or Timothy even if Edward Ralph was nestled securely in her maternally doting, satin arms.

"Rare bird, no!" Much larger, creamy hand pawing her forearm suppressed her pryingness and strong-willed nature as Timothy got from the kitchen table until the elder blonde's rear dropped back on the chair. "I'll be the one, who will check who is on the door!" When his footsteps echoed from the kitchen up to the corridor, leaving the both women alone with almost a toddler in his mother's arms, his fingers hooked on the doorframe just seconds before the humming ring on the front door repeated for a second time, tingling dully. "I promise it's going to be really quick and it won't take than a few minutes."

"Absolutely!" The both ladies backed him up, sipping their glasses of cold, fresh water, lacing their tongues with hydration.

Once the former holy man took a deep breath, his pristinely masculine fingers turned the key in the keyhole until in the imminent click the door opened and for his own surprise, two police officers embraced his sight beside him with a couple of inches proximity.

Panic and bafflement warped his frail heart, throbbing violently in his chest. It was almost ten o'clock in the morning and after the unforgettable, marvelous night he had with Jude on the restaurant, night club even when they didn't have the chance to dance because of a flagrant scenery between Jude and Lydia Jane and finally kissing for first time for real with his rare bird in the car as the car was parked past the river now his roller coaster of adventorous experience from the last night up to the late morning were a total failure to keep brighten him. Or rather, his inner voices, the encouraging and vibrant ones attempted to persuade him to not focus on every incident or moment where he'd be against the entire world and punch almost everybody in the face except his inner circle that was standing for him. Regardless if it was his worst, coldhearted foe Cayden, Martha or even the police feuding him and playing their own cards right in their clueless conspiracy against him, anyway he was more than determined to protect himself and his family, numbering his friends in a heartbeat.

"Good day!" Although the panic, the British compatriot tried to be nonchalant and act as if nothing bad has happened.

"Good day, Mr. Howard! We're here due to a complaint of a young woman, whose name is Martha Gray." Meantime, the younger man's parchment, young-looking yet complexion blanched, losing its true glossiness, chattering inwardly his jawline, solely dinstictive its tingle and earning suspicious two pairs of bleak eyes, goggled on him as if he's an offender, getting away with his crimes. "According to her complaint, you've tried to touch her without her consent especially lingering your fingers on her buttocks, waist and bosom. That happens everything in the gas station's store."

"First and foremost, police officers, with all respect those are the most sugarcoated lies that have nothing to do with the happened on the gas station. She was the one who threatened and put under risk not only me, but also my family for being destructed." Ironic snicker clicked the roof of his mouth, holding the front door steadily by lightly swaying it. Suddenly Jude and Madeleine walked away from the kitchen, emerging in front of the former man of the cloth's back. "You don't have any clue this lady is being a child of nobody else than a serial killer, who's now all free and he's ready in a heartbeat to kill his next victims."

"What's going on?" The middle-aged lady managed a quirk of her dark eyebrow perplexedly, biting her lower lip while grimace crinkled her facial features. "Has something happened?"

"Excuse me, ma'am! But we're talking only with Mr. Howard, who's involved in a complaint."

"Hold on a second, what a complaint, sir?" The childlike inquisitiveness also made Madeleine to join in the hazard game. The authorities' detector lie test's game.

"Mr. Howard is involved in a sexual assault over Martha Gray, who claims he tried to touch her sensitive body parts without her consent in the gas station's store."

"Instead of minding your own business with a serial killer that has already possibly murdered a few ladies today, you're blaming somebody who'd be never capable of showing signs of adultery towards his girlfriend by sexually assaulting stranger women especially way younger than him." The sharp tone of the Michiganian earned the both cops' incredulous glares, rendering them uneasily to remove their caps by scratching their sweaty heads with their tiny fingernails. "Don't you have another business than trying to eat the brains off novice parents with a middle-aged woman, who's working with me in a flower store a half a day and who's looking after a baby that is barely a five-month old? What kind of disrespect is to these parents, who've a baby?"

"Maddie," The older woman rocked back her ray of sunshine, while retaliating at her protégé softly, being deeply touched from the bottom of her heart how her tongue laces the most venomous utterance, clashing the policemen, leaving them speechless to their last breath. Jude's honey brown eyes eyed admiringly her protégé, searching for her look to hold hers.

"I truly understand your words, miss! But Mr. Howard should come with us for awhile in the police station. For some questions that need answers!"

"I was a witness on the happened."

"What did you exactly saw from the happened, Ms. Martin?" One of the middle-aged men posed gravely the question, gruffily clearing his throat to unnerve her, despite giving her the chance to speak the truth from her point of view.

"I was in the car as well, while he was in the gas station store to pay for the gasoline, crackers and mineral water bottle. Until the moment, I saw a young woman taunting him behind, he totally ignored her as if she didn't exist."

"Go on!" Sharp exhale flushed her ribcage, seconds before resuming her monologue.

"Timothy would never touch or abuse any kind of a woman, no matter her age, according to that mistress's words which are far from the truth! I know him much better and more than anyone who's interactions with him." The elder blonde rocked dotingly, faintly the infant while reconsidering, constructing the words in her mind before dripping from her mouth. Her roseate, soft lips twirled in a glaring frown, highlighting somberly her facial features, due to the authorities' indifference by defending a daughter of an infamous psychopath rather than believing the innocent side. "I watched everything from the car. Even if I wasn't accompanying him in the gas station store, I saw everything with my own eyes. Once Martha's taunting was a bit too much to be handled by Timothy, he turned by giving her a fair warning that a self-defense in the family and inner circle's names will happen if something dreadful happens to either of us, thanks to Cayden, Martha or Cayden's brother."

\- _A Half an Hour Later_ -

In spite of Madeleine and Jude's attempts to defend Timothy against the authorities' vicious and trustless claws, the former aspiring man of the cloth was temporarily in the police station for an interrogation over a fake complaint, which was far from the truth and the events taking its place inside the gas station store earlier today.

The Michiganian went back at home, taking after her mentor's advice to take a break from babysitting the former pious members of the clergy's love child for a whole night restlessly.

In the meantime, the British compatriot was sitting on the iron, extravagantly polished with its peeling lacquer, grayish four-wall room webbing him as an insect, being the impending prey of the spiders. His colossal, calloused in fashioned clutch hands into fists knotted its fingers on his lap, awaiting for the police officers and Martha to enter in the interrogation room. Flickering its yellow dimness lamp illuminated the lifeless four-wall room.

Suddenly footsteps echoed in the abysmal hallway, floodlighting his focus on the rusty, iron door until it was unlocked in a single click by two police officers as one of them is in a wheel chair, escorted by the notorious serial killer's daughter, Martha. Contangious serious glares feudened between the former priest and the brunette, crossing her arms that guarded her chest, opting to prove her wrath was still pumping into her veins, amalgamating with pure adrenaline.

"Detective Wilkerson, when the answer is accepted as no?" The second detective asked his disabled colleague after stepping inside the interrogation room by shutting the door, silence hushing the barren ambience, while Martha's intensifying glare was alighted with sheer contempt and abhorrence, transfixed on Timothy, clicking quietly her tongue. "When the answer is accepted as yes?" The suddenness of dinging tingled into their ears after detective Wilkerson's fingers clumsily pressed the bell on his wheelchair. "Good, let's go for the questions!" The first detective added. "Ms. Gray, is it true this man," Stutter floated from the first cop's pale lips, pointing with a forefinger at the former ambitious Monsignor, whereas her lips were pensively pursed. "Touched you non-consensually in the gas store earlier today?"

"Yes, he did!" The disabled police office didn't ding the bell for Timothy's relief. A quarter a minute later the brunette's corners of her eyes creased obnoxiously, faking her panting. "He did it." Still detective Wilkerson didn't ding the bell, gawking glassily, jadedly at the younger man.

"That's absolutely baloney, excuse me!" The eloquent emphasis of his retaliation drew the authorities' and Martha's reactions, outnumbering hers which was brightly contrasting. Shadow casted on her youthful, olive-tanned complexion. "She's making up this story so that to be here with you, being questioned over something I could never do in the name of my conscience and my inner circle instead of being with my family right now."

"It looks like, , that you didn't answer sincerely the first question," Spleen painted the young woman's face, suckling on her upper lip, still crossing her arms by folding herself. The bile rose up in her throat at the first detective's words. "At all! Moreover, Mr. Howard had a key witness who was in his car and observed the scene in the gas store, although she's now at home with their child." Meanwhile, the bell dinged for very first time, affirming the first policeman's words. A smug, slight smirk puckered Timothy's baby pinkish lips. "Second question! Is it true you harassed Mr. Howard while being in the store, constantly chattering behind him even when he's ignoring you until he snapped at you due to the inhumane threats," Heavy sigh flushed detective Hope's fragile lungs, knotting his fingers as the heels of his mammoth hands clasped altogether. "Threats of dancing on his grave or either of his inner circle's grave eventually?"

The silence was broken by another bell dinging, tingling the young lady's ears as a scratching noise of nails, scrapping slowly and steadily from upward downward its wooden plank.

"Never make a threat you cannot carry out, Miss! Never!" Detective Hope advised the brunette, wryly chuckling. "Mr. Howard, what exactly you did after this young lady threatened you to dance on your graves and your family being slaughtered?"

"Of course, I stood for my family and inner circle's interests! I told her if this happens or either from the Gray's family dares to hurt somebody from mine, otherwise, the consequences are going to be unforgivable!" The daughter of the infamous serial killer's lips managed in a subtle purse, raising an arch of her eyebrow suspiciously. "But I swear I haven't touched her or tried to assault her." Third dull ding of the bell made the young lady unfold her arms from her torso, managing an inward scowl under her breath, solely distinctive for her.

"Final question! Did the beloved Miss Martha Gray disturb you even after leaving the gas station's store?"

"Definitely, she did! In addition to after paying for the gasoline and the bought stuff for my girlfriend by waiting for her patiently to collect some nutrients, as soon as I noticed Ms. Gray leaving the store, her destination was up to the car. She was up to something unarguably dangerous!"

"What did she exactly do to both of you?"

"She was mentally abusing me and tapping on my car's closed window glass until I drove away up to home. I and Jude fled the gas station momentarily after the turmoil. We didn't have even enough time and the chance to phone our friend, who was babysitting our son." In the meantime, Martha narrowed her chocolate brown embers at the British compatriot as her toes curled in her boots. The forthcoming chink from the wheelchair bell creased in abhorrence the young woman's complexion utterly, furrowing her eyebrows gesturing the authorities.

"Is anything wrong Ms. Martha Gray? Do you need some time alone?"

"Just a second!" The psychopath's daughter cautioned a mutter by walking away from the room, consequently slamming the door and finding the nigh trash bin, located in the corridor by charging her feet to kick it until it collapsed with the cached pile of slimy, old garbage, pooling her ankles. Balling her fists, baring her teeth fiercely while opening her mouth in a snarl. "Fucking ex-priest! Once a liar, always a liar!"

\- _Later that Day_ -

The evening episode of the day approached quicker than the elapsing time in the police station's interrogation.

After the police station, it was determined Martha to be on a trial and being charged with a defamation with the false accusation of sexual assault over the British aristocrat.

As soon as Edward was fed along with bathed and changed abruptly into new pair of comfortable, clean pyjamas, cladding his petite, weightless body, the both former members of the clergy took a shower separately as Jude feared to take a shower with her boyfriend, due to the fear of rejection and noting the irreparable scar on her lower abdomen after giving a birth to their little cherub angel.

When the Bostonian was awaiting for the younger man to reenter the bedroom after his final destination in the kitchen by having a glass of fresh water, her honey brown irises, dimly glinting in the partly dim illuminated by her side night stand lamp glassily were gawking at one point. The curtains and the window, wrapped in its blanket, blocking the moonlight and the starless sky prospect.

Suddenly, the bedroom's door opened with a notorious creak, attracting instantly her attention.

"Aren't ya going to sleep finally? It's already midnight." The blonde's exclaimation enchanced with groggy undertone, flopping on the other side, meeting the younger man's soothing cocoa brown eyes or perhaps, the most vibrant cocoa brown she's ever seen.

"Unless you come with me!"

"What are ya up to now, darling?" In the meanwhile, the older lady unwrapped the blanket by hopping up in the fuzzy, convenient slippers, shoing her petite, flimsy feet by scooting up to her boyfriend, reluctant to allow her prying side to spoil.

"It's a surprise. Just follow me, Jude!" The softness of his British accent didn't fade away at all, holding the door for her as soon as she fled until it was shut when it was emptied, followed by a ginger slam. A muscly, strong arm dangled around her waist guided her to pace in the hall as their footsteps echoed lightly as levitating spectrals, in order to not wake up their son, who was soundly asleep in his cot in his own room.

Once they cascaded the stairway to the first floor, he guided his girlfriend to the living room as the coffee table was adorned with glasses of freshly poured, scrumptious red wine with exquisite quality. The piano's keyboard was opened.

Her caramel brown orbs in awe admired the romantic atmosphere that blanketed them once they stepped in the living room. They approached the leather sofa, seating next to each other while the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer dropped her head on her boyfriend's shoulder, perching her long golden mop of lavish silky curls tickling his pajama top's fabric. Beautifully sketched with its vibrant nuances smile flourishing upon her naturally rosy-coloured lips, producing a girlish giggle.

"That's unbelievable, sweetie! I didn't expect this innocent journey to the kitchen for a glass of water is going to urge ya something to make as a surprise."

"Why it's unbelievable? Because I'm full of surprises!" Their hands reached for their glasses of wine, pursuing for his gaze, scarcely having any intentions of breaking off the eye contact in an ease. "Let's raise a toast for this romantic midnight!"

"Cheers!" As soon as their glasses clinked, choiring the hushing midnight silence, consequently they sipped from their glasses of mouth-watering alcoholic beverage until they left aloof on the coffee table. "It's so gorgeous. I thought you were sleepy." The former holy woman's voice altered after the first sip from the alcoholic beverage, reviving its mellowness and petering out its raspiness.

"Not at all! I just want to spend it with the woman I truly love."

"Aww!" Judy purred in honeyed voice, clutching tightly shut her eyelids while her wine-stained, damp lips reached for the other pair of wine-stained lips, sealing them with a hardening, steamy kiss. "That's so selflessly sweet of ya, honey! I really appreciate it." The chilly climate that fogged the mansion's rooms with low temperatures due to the lack of heating prickled the blonde's epidermis in goosebumps and pebbling her mauve, small nipples, mirroring its sore sensitivity on the old, large sized T-shirt of her boyfriend she wore over her bare torso along with the old, almost unworn pair of navy, cotton boxers. After swigging within a couple of gulps the wine, the former woman of the cloth flabbergasted the younger man with her versatile swiftness of finishing the red wine within less than a minute only. The alcohol adhered in her veins and blood, sedating the heart beats and turning ardently to him, waiting his ogle after unperching her head from his shoulder.

"Be careful how quickly you drink the wine! I don't want the same accident to reoccur again." His caution made the middle-aged woman roll her eyes dramatically half-hearted. Seductively grinning at him with her shimmering ivory teeth.

"I didn't puke, because of the alcohol. It was because of that sick lesbian, silly." At the moment, Jude stradled her boyfriend with an ease, while his both colossal, secure hands perched on her waist, squeezing it as his pristine fingers warily caressed the light stretch-marked waist, holding the ogles, fueled with sheer love, lust and desire. Their faces caulked the gap that once divided their faces' distance with a few inches. His warm, wine-stained breath fanned her porcelain facial skin, while licking greedily, gamely her cherub lips. "Let's forget about that incident the last night!"

"Sure!" Meanwhile, the Bostonian cupped in the palms of her pleasantly lukewarm, creamy as cotton candy hands his face, tilting his head to meet her tempting ogle and infernal grin. "You're so beautiful even when you wear my almost unworn boxers and T-shirt. Did I tell you that?" Blush touched her cheeks ruddily.

"N-No! But they're pretty comfortable." The tads of her thumbs traced delicately his well-sculptured cheekbones, chewing on her lower lip.

"I'm glad they're comfortable but they look drop-dead gorgeous on a lady like you!" Suddenly his lips urged to approach hers with hardly an inch distance until her wine-stained breath clouded. "Is anything wrong?"

"Nah, however, are ya completely sure ya want this?"

"You know, I'll never regret for kissing the first ever woman I laid eyes on and the last one I'm going to spend my eternity." One of his hands unclawed her waist by reaching for her full cherub lips, his thumb brushing her bottom plumpish lip as a delicate silken. "And for getting to know her in every way!" Afterwards he silenced her with a kiss, pressed on her lips in a hardening, sultry kiss, fluttering their eyes shut as they molted in the kiss as a warm chocolate after staying in a muggy room without a proper isolation for sweets and easily melting items. As they kisses grew ferociously aggressive, their wet, wine-stained tongues begun dueling one another until the former nun plugged hers into his mouth, deepening in a French kiss. Meantime, one of his hands pushed over her large-sized T-shirt up to her shoulders while pawing her sore, medium-sized round breast, playing with her sore, mauve nipple while Jude muffled series of moans and groans, wrapping her legs around his waist as his bulging manhood poked her pubic bone. Her hands managed to reach for his dark hair, playing with it nervously. Insecurity stung shut her eyelids, while cocking back her head as his lips glided downward from her lips to her delicate, pale neck, peppering it initially with feather kisses until they grew ferocious, technically nipping its silky skin. His fingers teased warily her erected, sore nipple, in order to not cause abundance of physical pressure to her. Her neck flushed with blush when he uncupped her breast, running his hands all over her floppily lean torso until his fingers kneaded the beginnings and very endings of stretch marks, mapping her abdomen along with the scar.

"Oh fuck!" It was a third wheel for the Bostonian to control her language, formulating it with less cussings and inappropriate words, constructing her utterances. "That feels so damn good!" Thereafter his lips drifted down, indicating smoothly downward from her bosom up to her lower abdomen, peppering with tender, light kisses the stretch marks and the scar, admiring her stamina and everything as a dynamic roller coaster she's been through, weighing on its scales her strong personality and the battles she won and lost. "Oh Jesus Christ!"

"They're lovely!" She barely dared to flutter her eyes open at the sight of her boyfriend assaulting with tender, feather kisses her stretch marks and the scar after laboring for first time. "Mmmmm!" Her slim, long as flute stings combed the rich harvest of chestnut hair, darkening her gaze when it landed on her lover teasing the most sensitive topic about body parts. Timothy actually worshipped to pieces the traces, mapping her lower abdomen after giving a birth to their ray of sunshine. Initially, the former sister of the church thought disgust would swamp the pit of his stomach while admiring her natural beauty and most of all, body flaws after being through the three trimesters of sandstorm. "You're just perfection into my eyes!" Thus he stopped in a halt,readjusting their posture as he pressed his lips on her in a brief, sensual kiss, subtly hushing her pleas.

"Am I?" Shortly after breaking off the kiss, they took their time to admire one another's flawless facial features. "I thought these stretch marks and scar will disgust ya to bones."

"No, no! Never!" He shook his head in strong disagreement, whilst the former woman of the cloth was seating on his lap, his both strong, muscly arms folding her in the scooped embrace. "They are as perfect as you, my rare bird!" Giggles choired in the living room after the couch became a love nest of their. "Are you sleepy yet?"

"Not anymore! Would ya like me to play something on the piano?"

"Indeed! I'd love to see you playing on the piano. Just for me!" A promising, benevolent smile softened her facial features after kissing his cheek, whereas holding his chin for a split second by retiring from his lap and sitting on the piano's stool, her fingertips pressing the piano keys, reproducing musical tones along with her low humming as retrospection before chanting the song lyrics.

"Even before the moonlight casting its own light, dropping below the shadowed church," In the interim, the once holy priest pursed thoughtfully, attentively his berry-coloured lips, whereas his fingers fidgetly played with the frail glass, fixing his coffee brown irises at his rare bird. "Shadowed St. Andrew's church by demons and celibacy, an unknown yet to the Bostonians priest with perhaps two homelands," The eloquence and mellowness of her contralto tingled angelinc anthems into his ears, clapping quietly hands, cheering her up as the sole audience she'd. "Having no intentions of finding the perfect, young woman of his own dreams, making a beautiful family with adorable children and then having grandchildren in the next few decades by following the future generations!" The blonde gulped in the back of her throat a lump, biting her upper lip for awhile. "Then he met the nuns that were an enough selection which one would be his right hand. Nevertheless, his instincts never lied to him by landing his eyes on the nun in the middle. She's the one, who would be his right hand and being sent on hallowed missions in other, unidentified lands. Foreign for their eyes than Boston, the small city of Massachusetts." A deep breath paused, while the piano instrumental didn't cease at all. "The sisters weren't too impressive for him except the only one, who's chosen after shaking her hand, noticing the impressive traits of her authoritiy and professionalism. But something urged him and her they couldn't be just friends and co-works in a madhouse and behind the church's walls." A few piano keys were pressed in the same time, ideally matching with the song's rhythm. "Friendship couldn't be the exact word, describing their complicated relationship that was a roller coaster they've been through, besides the hectic business. A superior power above them and judging them told them they're made for one another. The rare bird only knew that as that priest called her." In the meanwhile, her hips swayed in the rhythm, whilst applauds of her boyfriend were sufficiently encouraging her to resume the song. "The Monsignor at first was utterly dedicated to become a Cardinal and the Rome's Pope. He wanted to change the rules in the diocese when he takes his rare bird in Rome. Marrying each other and having the children they've desired of and fleeing the bleak Boston, having a fresh start in sunny Rome."

"The Monsignor at first was utterly dedicated to become a Cardinal and the Rome's Pope. He wanted to change the rules in the diocese when he takes his rare bird in Rome. Marrying each other and having the children they've desired of and fleeing the bleak Boston, having a fresh start in sunny Rome." Even the British compatriot chanted the song lyrics along with her, clapping his hands as his lips bubbled up.

"How about passing and overlooking with their children, made of their own flesh and blood the nuns and priests, while stepping on the aisle, ravishing red as that nun or rather, his rara avis of his dreams's red slip which she wore for him only and clad to her bones for tonight," She cleared her throat softly. "Being applauded and worshipped by the general population after meeting the United States' president and the English Queen and having photos with the most admired faces of the world," Resonance thicked her deep voice, eyeing lovingly Timothy with a smirk. "The church wasn't shadowed anymore. Illumination by the true, divine love which was found in Boston and sentenced to life in Rome casted over St. Andrew. Daylight they're partners in crime and tonight they're the wild beasts in their love nest of Rome. Queen-sized bed's bedsheets wrinkled and series of lustful dew staining them , losing their pure innocence. Dreams are always possible even in Rome. Dreams in Rome are where exactly the true love continued and writing more paragraphs of the chapter of the love story." Suddenly the piano keys were untouched, petering out the reproduced click until the instrumental faded in the background. Crystalline, fat twin tears dripped from Timothy's lower eyelids, daubing them as if he's on cloud nine, gulping the remaining wine in his glass.

**Bonus: Do you think they verged to reunite together fully and was it a hint the smut is approaching way too soon? Do you think Martha will survive up to the trial and being sentenced if Timothy plays his own cards right? Is it possible Lydia Jane to be part of Jude and Timothy's team or otherwise teaming with Cayden and his allies? **

**Author's Brief End Note: Not gonna lie, Martha bugged me off more than Cassandra by proving how much worse she'd be with her demeanor and manners. Cassandra could treat harshly her mother and still neglecting her, nevertheless, Martha's lies and false accusations are on much higher level of brashness and arrogance. She's way much worse than her father, in my humble opinion. But I've to confess I like Lydia Jane and her complex character, despite her predatoric behaviour in the previous chapter in the nightclub. Further, we'll discover more behind the mask of Lydia Jane's character in the next chapters as a wee spoiler. **

**Anyway I'd like to apologize for postponing with the updates over this story and for not keeping my promise with the new short book I was about to publish these days but instead, I didn't have any motivation and I kept pushing myself to finish the new chapter of Wings of Light. Anyway a short book is its own way to be published. I won't spoil and leaving it on a cliffhanger with its fans that are eager to read it extremely soon. Last but not least, the song in the end that Jude chanted was originally thought of me in the last seconds of writing the final scene. I know how silly is the song, nonetheless, some joyously romantic ambience wouldn't hurt to revive the readers' smiles after being pressured for so long with Jude and Tim's scandals and hostility. I hope you liked and enjoyed the chapter! :))**


	20. Choices' Sunrise

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Edward, little cherub angel, guess who's back! Sweetheart, no! Edward, it's not healthy to eat your stuffed animals and toys! Mommy and Daddy won't be okay if there are bacterias and germs in your tiny, sweet mouth."_

_"Nana!"_

_"Stay away from the flower store, you little bastards! I gotcha you!"_

_"Shut up you dyke! The fact that you've a gun, that doesn't mean we're afraid of you!"_

_"So as we promised together the night was all ours, correct? That's right. Even if that lesbian tried to molest you or something, it didn't mean to entirely ruin the fun we had and the fantastic romantic experience by driving us to the lake and sleeping in the car, while Maddie is minding her business with Edward."_

_"I think you're definitely right! Even if something tries to ruin a good experience, it didn't mean for the whole day. Timothy,"_

_"It could be. It didn't really look like if you watched from the car the scenery in the gas store. She was saying dreadful things about us and plotting a delicious slaughter of our family. She threatened me I'll be the first one whose grave she will be dancing on with her father and her uncle."_

_"Jesus H Christ! I knew it Cayden that psychotic bastard will tell absolutely to his family or whoever it could be to plot our assassination even slaughter. I didn't suspect even Cayden has a family that support his atrocities after for trying to rape me after sedating me and throwing me as a corpse in the attic, locking me up in a cage and the brutal murders, kidnaps and rapes of other girls who're already eliminated. He eliminates anything feminine."_

_"Needless to say, little cherub angel! You're absolutely right that I mustn't be upset that your parents are so irresponsible to let me know even if they're still alive. I hope they're fine." _

_"Hey, look who's home! Mommy and Daddy!"_

_"It looks like, , that you didn't answer sincerely the first question at all! Moreover, Mr. Howard had a key witness who was in his car and observed the scene in the gas store, although she's now at home with their child. Second question! Is it true you harassed Mr. Howard while being in the store, constantly chattering behind him even when he's ignoring you until he snapped at you due to the inhumane threats... threats of dancing on his grave or either of his inner circle's grave eventually?"_

_"Never make a threat you cannot carry out, Miss! Never! "Mr. Howard, what exactly you did after this young lady threatened you to dance on your graves and your family being slaughtered?"  
_

_"Sure! You're so beautiful even when you wear my almost unworn boxers and T-shirt. Did I tell you that?" _

_"N-No! But they're pretty comfortable."_

After the tough day Martha had with the clash and police station, she paid a visit to her father's dilapidating property, in order to seek his councel and inform him how the former man of the cloth got away with her false complaint by refuting the faked sexual assault over her.

When the infamous serial killer of Vermont refuged his daughter in the kitchen, she cupped her powdered ruddily by unforgivable ire and contempt, brewing and cooking inside her after boiling its bile that rose in her throat with her clash with Timothy in the police station's interrogation room and before that the gas store earlier today.

"You're pretty desperate, cupcake!" Meanwhile, the infamous serial killer retrieved an unused, clean flimsy glass from the kitchen cabinet, whilst the nocturnal silence hushed in the background, muting the lavish snowfall outside with its beehive of crystalline, alabaster snowflakes, pelting down in its dance, seconds before blanketing with its snow blanket the surroundings. Light winter wind whistled outside along with the dancing snowflakes. Eerie flat line creased his pale, damp lips. It wasn't a smile, nor a frown. Silence stretched them as marionettes' stings, while Martha daubed the generous layer of sweat on her palms on her round, well-sculptured knees. "I'd like to know what makes you so desperate. Who is responsible for your desperation, Martha?"

"It's that," Hemming amalgamated with a lump, bubbling up in her throat, hesitantly gulping it sluggishly, effortly while her fingers fidgeted under the table. "It's that pathetic ex-priest, who accused me I was the liar in the case and our family's gooses will be cooked if we dare to hurt anybody from his inner circle." At the moment, the middle-aged man's nostrils flared ablaze oxygen, turning to his daughter, listening attentively each pelt word.

"Sorry for interrupting you, baby doll, but would you like something to drink or eat?"

"Just a glass of water is enough for me!" Heavy sigh floated from her chest, bobbing in an agreement her head, whereas her elvish hand was propping her head, eyeing glassily, blankly with twain of pallidly chocolate brown eyes, the coldest chocolate brown illuminating the indiscernible roundness of the eye, blending with the midnight black pupil. "And this priest angered the hell out of me in the police station and after the questions, I excused myself by leaving the interrogation room and kicking a random trash bin in the hall!" After the sink's faucet was turned, cataract of fresh, crystal jet water pooling the unused yet glass until its liquid peaked up to the rim of the glass, thereafter the monotonous splash of its jet water petered out. His strong, meaty fingers curled around the glass, consequently lifting it with an ease until he handed it gentlemanly to his daughter. "Thanks! And they made me to clean the shit after myself and kicking the trash bin. It was just piece of cake though the hall reeked of garbage." After a few soothing sips of the glass of water and leaving it aloof on the kitchen table, her fingers absently played still hooked around the glass and the lukewarm fingertips tipping the flimsy glass, her mouth opening widely in a wry chuckle. "Even somehow that former priest passed me after the questions, while cleaning the hallway as if I didn't exist or I was a cleaner. He's so arrogant and believing his own lies which is his guilty pleasure." Emphasis highlighted the last words in her utterance, eyeing her father who was pouring himself a scotch glass of mouth-watering, insatiable Ancient Age bourbon, his tongue twirled and subsequently salivating his lips, agitated to relish its potent alcohol's lace, lingering on his tongue and scorching the corners of his mouth.

"I know him better than you do, Martha! But I can't disagree with you, because this man is actually pain in the ass and no wonder why this ex-nun once trusted me even more than him." All of a sudden, nonplusment carved upon her eyelids, widened in speechlessness and zipping her lips, reshipping from her glass of water as soon as Cayden joined her, sitting against her and swigging a handful of greedy sips, lacing his tongue with its scorching bourbon savor. The lethal silence perplexed Cayden, fakening his panting as his bourbon-stained breath fanned generously his daughter's face, propping with one hand. "Cat got your tongue, baby doll? Huh?"

"I'm speechless. It even amuses me how she once trusted you more than this faggot."

"I know, but, but you won't be the one who will kill Timothy. I don't want you to be hurt and to be taught a lesson by the bastard, who's responsible for your death!" The sharpness of his tone tingled a beneficial caution into her ears, listening attentively to the infamous serial killer, whose berry-coloured tongue twirled and licked greedily the bourbon sticky layer, coating his pale-pinkish lips. "You're fragile angel, Martha! A man like Timothy or me will never attack a woman as fragile and spectacular as you're. You will play another role in the nemesis."

"What kind of role I'm going to play in our ongoingly plotting revenge, dad?" Her heart molted, dipped in warmness and being touched from the bottom of her heart for cherishing ethereally her life at any cost which was far from extravagant to be paid for its price once it ceases from existence. "What plans do you have for me to be your Guardian angel?"

"No matter the circumstances, you will spy on either of them or those three of a kind when they're all together!" Smug smirk smeared across her hydrated, roseate lips, biting her lower plumpish lip at his words. "If somebody notices you or tries to attack you, all you can do is to defend yourself if they get so far and just run away." Meanwhile, his meaty fingers heaved the scotch glass, quaffing the Ancient Age bourbon, whereas a vile flat line replaced her smirk at the thought of how abundance of bumps will block her way to accomplish her mission. "Be versatile and quick and smart, of course! And you should report to me anytime or to your uncle what's going on! I'll find a way to deal with Timothy and Maddie and finally Judy!"

"So what's going to do my uncle in the plotted revenge?" The hoarseness in her posed question didn't fade away, sipping her glass of fresh, cool water once again, quirking an eyebrow in wonderment, puzzling her what kind of business Sebastian has in their vengeance. "Will he spy on them and try to find the skeletons in their closet?"

"He will have a task which is not positioned for ladies." His mouth opened in a huge, complacent grin with his versatile, acuteness of his functioning thoughts, constructing the plans. "He will try to poison them or sedate them with the products he'll try to deliver to their homes" Meantime, during the pause, hushing in the background and muting every noise, he cleared gruffily his throat for doubling the attention and the brunette's focus be utterly devoted to his utterance. "They might have mistaken with the delivery they're about to almost install but once he plays his own cards right, therefore he will bring them here with a transport and I'll take care of the business."

"Hold on a second! They will instantly recognize we're playing with the fire." The softness of her lisp ebbed out her eerie flat line, indicated across her lips and flexing her jaw line with a frown, creased across her freshly youthful, parchment complexion. "They don't seem even that stupid at all! Either this old hag or her friend will notice me from somewhere even my uncle and they will call the cops or they'll attack us eventually if they don't call the police."

"Don't worry about this part, sweetie!" At the moment, the Italian compatriot's colossal, solely free hand reached for her chin, grappling it with a couple of fingers, tilting her head to cease the eyeless contact. "You will dress up somehow like spies or in darker clothes. Like the burglars and the cops. They will have no clue who are you!"

"Of course, that faggot will have by judging my face!"

"Take it easy, Martha! A mask will cover your face and will save your skin from immediate detection! A very dark mask." The reek of gore, feminine flesh, mold and sinfully scrumptious bourbon contrasted the triumvirates of stenches, wafted across the both adults' noses. "Just like the thieves to prevent detection of their faces."

\- _An Hour Later_ -

\- _16th of February, 1966_ -

Shortly after midnight wasn't the ideal timing for the both former members of the clergy to crawl in bed, factly, the insomnia tortured them and they'd rather prefer to stay awake as much as possible.

Jude and Timothy were still in the living room , spending time together with one another rather than having any intentions of cuddling underneath the warm, conveniently soft quilt and listen to the whistles of the regiment of crystal-clear, flimsy snowflakes, pounding down and forming a snowy blanket everywhere.

"Where do you think you're going with these glasses?" The former aspiring Monsignor's posed question with hints of sarcasm wracked a jubilant, girlish giggle whilst the former woman of the cloth held the already emptied glasses, wobbling up to the kitchen and her light-heavy, docile footsteps scarcely echoed against the carpeted flooring. Meanwhile, Timothy was rummaging the dressing table for the Polaroid photo camera.

"It's a secret, darling! Sometimes the secrets are the sweetest when ya don't want to spoil it, because of somebody's pryingness." Seconds before fleeing the living room and setting a foot in the kitchen, the blonde turned to the former priest with a smug grin, gamely, mischievous winking at him, pursuing his look though his utter focus was on the dressing table's rummage. "Hey, what are ya searching for so hard?" The enquiry stopped in a halt the rummage, navigating the former priest's coffee brown embers by lifting them to meet the blonde's caramel brown embers, smiling at them mischievously, vibrantly.

"So as you've a secret, I really can't tell mine too." Sly, complacent smile brightened his still youthfully fresh, feldsparly-pale complexion and his coffee brown pools alighted as fireflies, floating in the gardens of a summer night. "I can't give you away my secrets just like that. But I assure you, you will be on fire with it!" Silence hushed between the both former pious members of the clergy with the exchange of mischievous smiles, glimmering thousand patterns of flirtitatiousness. Meantime, the former holy woman emitted a wry chuckle, rolling her eyes by walking away from the living room and tiptoeing barefoot in the kitchen as her bare feet grazed gently the hypothermic tiled flooring.

Whilst the British compatriot researched the drawer for the Polaroid photo camera, Jude approached one of the countertops, laying the emptied glasses and retrieving the bottle of high quality red wine, pouring in each glass equal scale. The delighting aroma of vintage flared up the former holy woman's nostrils, inhaling it inwardly with hedonism, fluttering shut her eyelids and molting in its vintage aroma. Afterwards the old bottle of wine was stored in the refrigerator along with the other food and drink products, consequently retrieving the glasses of mouth-watering red wine and heading up to the living room until her honey brown pools stung widened at the photo camera's focused target. Her throat managed to devour the lump, bubbling up in her throat muscles and flexing them in devour.

"Wait, what you doing there?" The steadiness of its grapple her curled slim, delicate fingers around the frail glasses of wine slightly hesitated the former woman of the cloth caught-off guard by the younger man, who was about to snap a Polaroid photo with her. The perky breasts, puncturing its roundness as highlands, the sensitive, perky nipples pebbled with chilliness, arousing along with the round shape.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" In the meanwhile, Timothy played it silly, taking a photo of his girlfriend holding warily the glasses of red wine, grappled by handles while wobbling up to the coffee table. The older lady bleated a girlish, blatant snigger, clicking the roof of her mouth as the British compatriot joined her, choiring altogether by photographing a second Polaroid photo while she leant down and providing them a sufficient space warily without clumsily nudging and breaking them with an ease. The large-sized T-shirt's neckline blocked the view of her cleavage. "You really enjoy taking photos, Timothy!" She implied ironically, suckling on her lower lip seductively, persistently, the calluouses of her brittle knuckles protrude while clawing the coffee table, eyeing him enticingly with her magnetic, vibrant caramel brown eyes. She and Timothy tried to experiment tonight by staying awake as much as possible by fooling around harmlessly especially at home and opting to live the genuine life of an ordinary couple, instead of the old long-time friends they always did.

Even as friends they seldom were prone to untie the reins of their control and abstinence in the madhouse by sharing a couple of prominent, recollected as piece of memories moments in solicitude they genuinely appreciated. They used to be a nun and a priest by taking solemnly their vows without breaking them in galore of activities that were against their reputation, career and vows. Furthermore, once they're no longer serving the church's duties, consequently they had the ultimate freedom of the world to travel the world, propose, having their own children whether as foster or biological parents. Jude and Timothy appreciated and cherished every ounce of their myriad opportunities to discover the world around them and come into contact with the life's moments which are whether one-off or might occur for their carte blanche's sake. They were like birds, treasured dearly their liberty from the holiness, the holy icons, the rigidly shapeless uncomfortable attires of the cloth, clad to their bones and the vows, sentencing them to celibacy, marrying their fully identity to God as a sole divine possession of God and never bumping into the bad habits of the current young generation and people, who still lived for the old days.

"Only of you, rare bird!" Then she straightened her spine, gripping by the handle glass of wine until its rim contacted her pink, wine-stained lips as a third photograph was snapped, retrieved in the former pious man of the cloth's fingers gingerly without tearing off the Polaroid photographs, nor rumpling in any vulnerable angle, endangered to diminish its uniqueness. Within a handful of seconds, her lips opened in a soft O, vintage liquid flowing downward from her tongue tip, swigging greedily the flowing liquid and rowing her ivory, still firm for her age teeth with dim, translucent vintage.

"It's not a big deal how I look like now! I just have my second glass of wine now, but the surprise is amusingly lovely."

"Hey, smile for the camera, sweetie!" Rhetorical reprimand, metaphorically predominant curled upon his lips, shooting a fourth picture of the middle-aged lady after leaving aloof her half-emptied glass. After the fourth picture perched on his palm while tossing the Polaroid camera on the dressing table, the middle-aged woman scooted up to him within a couple of short steps, her alabaster bare feet wading like a curious child playing in the sea the invisibly dusty, conveniently lukewarm carpeted flooring nonetheless. "No wonder why you look so perfect on the photos with that shining smile and these glowing hazel eyes!" Judy stood by his right side, surveying in a scrutiny the Polaroid pictures' details and on the last one spotting her alight smile and the charming magnetism of her honey brown irises, glowing due to the camera's flashlight.

"They're pretty good!" The Bostonian couldn't agree more, Satisfaction and inebriation of their childlike snickers took a toll on the both former members of the church, whereas Judy snatched the last photo, inspecting attentively every detail without missing anything. The light, the posture, the smile and everything else were just far from imperfect, in her humble opinion. "I'm still wondering why ya didn't become a photographer to take pictures of models, the nature and so forth. Whatever ya would like to take pictures of, Timothy!" A playful swat drummed on Timothy's broad, muscly shoulder. What it aroused the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's interest was why her boyfriend hasn't orientated his career much earlier in the photograph sphere, judging his skills in snapping photos. "You're so talented and not only teaching Latin in the schools would be so lucrative in yar case."

"I didn't realize I'd take such good photos. I've to admit you're so inspirational with your encouragement and motivational words, Judy!" Heavy, content sigh measured the surged oxygen from the top of his lungs. "If it wasn't you saying this, I wouldn't notice this." His berry-coloured lip curled in gratitude, accepting gladly the compliment, handing the pile of snapped photographs in Jude's cupped palms after surveying the last photo which could be her favorite.

"Even if I'm drunk or something, I speak my mind and notice the small details. Like always!" Her wine-stained, sticky with liquor cherub lips provided a low, complacent hum at the perfectly snapped at the moment photographs, gauging her poses and facial expressions like a model after her professionally hired photographer shoots the pictures of her and it's high time to glance at them once at least. "My mind is photogenically crystal to inspect and acknowledge the facts, but not everything. I'm still learning." Although the extraordinary knowledge and experience, compiled with an eagle naked eye, the middle-aged lady's confession of still gaining knowledge saturated her inquisitive and intelligent nature, oozing of full potential.

"So as you claim that I've amazing photographing skills, why didn't you become a model back in the old days instead of being a nun or mixing it with your singer career?"

"I have never thought about it, to be honest." Frustrated gasp in her wasted potential in pursuing model career in her younger years abruptly pang of deep regret swamped the pit of her stomach, flush besprinkling her neck. "Dammit! Anyway a couple of men years ago claimed that I should have become a model, instead of a singer." Judy ducked her head abashedly, thick veil of blush veiling her well-carved cheeks after inspecting the Polaroid photos and rummaging the drawer for a wooden frame, opting to mute the dark inner voices and the swarm of masculine, plastered voices, echoing in her mind's walls like echoes of lunatics. "They said I have a figure, face and everything of a model even the charisma, despite I was just a broken woman and I was something then with my youthful beauty. The longer golden hair. The shining hazel eyes. The bright red that looked so good on me. I have never attended any model studio which was wholly professional and could offer me a chance to earn thousand of dollars annually though the models were the same like certain singers." After her dexterous, passionately strong fingers researched every angle and corner of the drawer, nothing inclining to picture wooden frame to frame the recently shooted pictures, mewwing a frustrated chunter under her breath, whilst feeling soothingly warm fingers cradling her bare, symetrically-spherical elbow with its virgin-like caress as if it was Timothy's first time touching somewhere else a representative of the opposite sex than her face and hands. That was just a collation of the touch. Nothing else. "Hussies!" She turned to the owner, hissing the strafe in a mumble, brightened by his collected and calmness, embracing her with open arms.

"I know what you're talking about. They're right though you're still outstandingly gorgeous and," Pause coruscated its shadow in the gap, pale-pinkish, wine greased stained lips planting an affectionate, feather kiss on the top of her head, his fingers reaching for her knuckles by playing lovingly with her slim, long fingers until bringing her knuckles in a gentleman peck and followed by a melting pur, floating from her cherub, rosy-coloured lips. "And you're only mine and always mine."

"It's true! Yar only mine and always going to be mine, no matter the circumstances!"

"And don't worry about the photos! They will be either stored in the photo album or the ones you like the most will be framed in a picture frame." Then the tads of his fingers traced delicately her brittle, softened knuckle of her milky as vanilla hand, fingertips fondling the delicatest areas of knuckles' highlands. "Or at least, by tomorrow while you're with Maddie in the flower store, I promise I'll buy a couple of picture frames for the special photos." All of a sudden, series of despaired bleated caterwauls emanated under the living room's window, wiping off the bliss from the both former devotional members of the clergy's porcelain, restlessly-rimming complexions. Their stares froze, shifting their sudden attention at the window, opening their mouths in a wide O. "The poor thing! I doubt it some bad person has dropped it in the middle of the night for us to look after it." After his fingertips lingered on the sensitive area of the bony knuckles, afterwards the warm fondle petered out, evaporazing haphazardly when the former ambitious holy man captured the former nun's roseate lips in a soft, brief kiss, seconds before changing his direction up to the hall and the front door after draping his winter pantaletot, guarding his shoulders without catching cold to research the yard and the owner's desperate meows.

"It could be lost or finding somewhere as a shelter until somebody finds him or finds its new home." The former sleazy jazz nightclub singer escorted her boyfriend though he ushered her to stay inside, factly, light-heavy-clad to bones attires were far from promising comfy warmness if she dares to leave the property.

"Stay here! I'll take care of the business." The continuous bleated miaows sourced a background noise along with the whistling rich snowfall outside as the British aristocrat inspected every corner on his way before under the living room's window. "Come on, kitty-cat! I promise I won't hurt you." His nostrils inhaled the fresh, hazy winter's air, overally barring further or foreign reek or fragrance. His hazelnut brown embers, igniting its flames of heed studied the shadowed corners and angles of the flowerbeds and the yard until the recurring mew's hymn was stentorianer than almost a minute ago, but remaining with the same level of sorrow and hopelessness. "I'm just worried for you." Solely distinctive murmur for him tingled his ears until he found one of the flowerbeds where the kitten has imbed its tiny, quivering body in possibly the warmest, most convenient zone. At the moment, the former holy man probed the flowerbed until a small kitten, shadow overshadowing its trembling, fragile, vulnerable body and horror-struck igneous brassly-green rimmed big eyes, darted to the foreigner. Protracted cupped palms, offering strangely cozy transport up to indoors by fleeing the hard-boiled, glacial outdoors' prospect. "Come on, kitty-cat! You will be safe at home." When his fingers reached to yank gingerly the frigid, half-dead due to the vicious frostbite small cat that didn't'seem older than a few months old only by judging its physical attributes, aggressive growls escaped itsmouth, the whiskers' stings fanned gently, unknowledgeable as angel's wings, flapping incessantly, rhythmically above the mortal world and fleeing to their own world. Heaven. "Oh God! You're half deadly frozen! You deserve a warm, cozy house to be sheltered." The emphasis quivered Timothy's lower plumpish lip, scurring up to the porch, his fingers warily heaving the light-heavy kitten until the his footsteps stomped repeatedly on the rug on the front door, dollop of snow scattered on the woolen rug. The British aristocrat's attempts to not terrify the cat were beyond his strength. As soon as the British aristocrat entered in the mansion by shutting the front door with a slam with the heel of his shoed feet, consequently he dropped lowly the two-month-old kitten on the tiled flooring.

"H-How is the kitten?" Once the blonde eavesdropped the front door's slam and removing gently the draped coat from the younger man's arms as he stretched them in the air, aiding her encouragingly, stammer limped in the back of her tongue after hanging the coat and not having enough time to survey in a scrutiny the half dead stray animal. "Oh God! It's half dead. We're so lucky for finding it in the right time before we found it on the morning after frozen to death in the flowerbed." After reentering the kitchen and crouching down to study the feeble attributes of the young cat, her petite, smooth hand muffled a sharp, unpreventable gasp, matching with the blanched, discolored fresh vanilla facial tone of her complexion and trepidation unlocking her natural compassionate nature at the sight of the two-month-old stray animal. "There must be suitable food for the poor thing. It's so skinny for its fragile age." After the former pious man of the cloth spent almost a minute consolingly petting the cat's areas, unaffected by the vicious frostbite, subsequently the former sister of the church scooted up to the refrigerator, in the corner of her hazelish-brown orb scanning the food supplies they could survive for weeks.

"Bacon and milk would be the best since it's," Shortly after series of consoling pets on the kitten's safe areas after Judy retrieved a carton of milk along with packeted thick slices of bacon, thus the kitten emitted purrs, molting in the delicate loving touch that was granted to it. "It's a boy, I guess!" In the interval, the former holy woman poured milk in a small teacup up to the rim and cutting on small pieces one of the thick bacon slices, frittering them on sufficiently small scales to be gulped by the starving stray kitten.

After the teacup with delicious milk and salivating bacon fritters were set within an inch past the young cat, wiggling unevenly its skinny tail in sheer ecstasy at the sight of food and milk after surviving in starvation for unknown time. His once terrified eyes no longer held the frosty blazes of anguish. Shimmering with brightened, benevolent brighter nuance than the brass. A great blend of jade and citrine, dappling its huge irises. Smile perched beneath the eyelids. The caterwauls were oblivious, dying on its slimy tongue after its foster owners gave him something to eat and drink.

"Everything is going to be alright, sweetie! You just need supplies to keep your stomach out from growling and pretending for anything to fill it." The friendly words of the older lady hexed a dab of comfort for the kitten, whose tiny mouth with its still growing and developing its anatomy ivory, childish teeth nibbling the chunks of bacon, scattered as a luxurious pile alongside the teacup with milky pond. "I'm afraid to guess ya haven't eaten anything in awhile by judging yar body structure and the lack of fair muscularity for being that little." Afterwards the both former members of the church rose as they fled the zone where their recently adopted pet from the vicious mid-February frostbite to have a peaceful meal. Beamingly compassionate smiles decorated their lips. "But yar damn right, Tim! It's a boy by judging its kitten's anatomy." After scrutinizing the cat's body by starting from the small head with the big ears, symmetrically matching with its attributes, followed by the charcoal gray thin furred body. Bones were visible beneath the fur and skin. Eerily bulging its skeleton. "I'm still questioning how ya found it in one of the flowerbeds under the living room's window."

"I'm sure it was lost and some bad person has dumped in the middle of the snow and it got lost by finding us as a last hope." Her upper lip trembled. Crystally translucent as a dimly flickering bright-yellow bulb tears rimmed honey brown embers, blush powdering the eyelids' whiteness. Judy has almost never cried or showed any signs of weakness. Showing the true colors of her own emotions wasn't her second nature at all. Misery with open-minded tears, pouring as a heavy rain on her porcelain, still young-looking complexion with its light-heavy wrinkles wasn't a second nature for her either. It was phenomenally unidentified emotion for her as much as the genuine felicity. She mostly loved the wrong people rather than receiving in return the love they owed to her. Even modicum of its pearliness at least. Jude spent most of her time in the past being the reason of the wrong people's shining, vivid smiles and their blatant, ego-centric happiness, tinting her images with fake friends or allies who weren't presumed even destined to deserve a tad of her goodwill. "I'm so proud of you for finding it before it's too late, my love!" Meanwhile, the Bostonian dangled a lean, alabaster arm around her boyfriend's toned upper back, dropping a head on his muscly, secure shoulder, wheras his delicate nose tip nuzzled the top of her head.

"So as you fed him in good time. I'm sure you're probably right how it could establish there from nowhere." Their childlike inquisitive irises were transfixed on the two-month-old cat that was greedily, restlessly devouring every fragment of his meal. "We've to think and overcome with something originally clever and authentic as a name for this survivor!"

"We're going to keep him just for one night and then might give it to Maddie or somebody we trustworthily know well to look after him." Wry, half-hearted giggle clicked her tongue, lifting her gaze to meet the former aspiring Monsignor's. "And furthermore, Edward will turn five months old in a week."

"If Maddie doesn't have enough money with her older brother for cat supplies and to look after him permanently, who do you think will take the responsibility between them?" Even when Timothy strongly disagreed to give away the stray kitten to somebody else from their inner circle or acquaintances, a rhetorical enquiry thought-provocingly punctured the middle-aged woman's facial features, biting her tongue unintentionally. "And who knows what Roman is doing, whilst Maddie is in the flower store with you?"

"Frank wouldn't be a good idea to look after it if those both kiddos cannot. He's working a night shift which means nobody is at home just because of one cat that is barely a baby."

"So that leaves us with no other choice than keeping it." After headstrong heated debates, the smug slurping of the unnamed cat sourced a background noise, tingling relief in Jude and Timothy's ears. The thin whiskers dipped its edges, paling milkily and the rich aroma of milk wafting across its sensitive nose. "Did you think of a name for this ray of sunshine?" In spite of the pure affection for animals, Judy has never adopted a foster animal as her own pet. In her own inexperience, salty lump flexed her throat in sluggish gulp.

"I love pets and whatever animal it could be, however, we can't keep this cat for too long. A baby is nearby and if Edward is allergic to cats even catches some kind of a dangerous disease?" In the meantime, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer cleared gruffily her throat, blinking incessantly her eyelids at the sight of the nameless kitten disappearance. Her heart sunk at the thought of her ray of sunshine catching a disease or allergy struggling the both parents besides him in the household along with the two-month-old cat's haphazard disappearance. Profound concerns, almost transfiguring in compunctions as a parent of almost a toddler and a foster pet symptomed from her inexperience with pets were eating slowly but surely Judy.

"Don't be too narrow-minded about one kitten! We'll pay a visit to the vet to inspect it and tell us if he's prone to be a danger for the baby! Anyway I must call the vet and arrange certain available time to visit him these days." The crystalline tears ebbed off from her eyelids, pensively pursing her lips and rolling her round eyes at Timothy's controversial opinion, oppositing to hers. "We'll try our best Edward to not have any interactions with the kitten unless he grows up a bit and have more information about his condition in general. What makes you afraid so much about it? Huh?" Cold cough quivered the middle-aged lady's plump lips until the sensation of rubbing head against her bare feet was reassuringly massaging her toes. The nameless kitten has already finished with its first ever meal since awhile and expressing his ginormous, altruistic gratitude in the form of generosity and tenderness.

"I've to admit I've never adopted a pet at home or never had enough money for supplies and to keep it with me except for the squirrel that I kept it in a shoebox as a child." Watery eyes spoke volumes. Tears-rimmed embers ignited tsunami's storminess, boiling in her eyelids. The glimmer of dew pools lowered to the grateful stray pet, beaming at it. In the meanwhile, Timothy followed her stare's target. "I used to feed him after school and hide it from mom even after her double shifts as a maid in a hotel and working a few more jobs to provide decent life for both of us. I found the squirrel actually somewhere on my way home. It was somewhen in the fall." Her front ivory, yet firm teeth nipped her lower lip thoughtfully, rationally formulating one of the recollected memories from her past when she looked after a squirrel as a young girl. "It survived like a couple of weeks. It was the only childhood friend I've ever had. I didn't have any friends at school, because they're making fun of me for the poverty that I and my mom struggled as usually. I've always wanted to have one loyal and true friend then and I prayed my heart to God shortly before finding that good old buddy." Her flimsy heart cracked on trillions of glassy, frail pieces at her childhood memory with the squirrel as Frank, her deceased mother only knew about it and now Timothy was the third person being all ears about it. Meantime, a strong, muscly arm supported her middle dotingly. "One day I forgot to feed him perhaps. Probably a couple of days have passed since he's eaten anything. He looked so sick. I put him on the table and I prayed my heart out for his soul. He was immobile. He was just dead. My childish oblivion then still burdens my shoulders as an ounce. I spent a couple of hours in praying my heart out and when mom found us, her cruelty of screaming bloodily and throwing him in the trash bin was just,"

Silence hushed in the kitchen's background except the mirthful nameless kitten's purring, still rubbing his head against the former devotional holy woman's toes and delicate, alabaster feet skin. The British compatriot's mammoth, secure hand managed to rub her upper back consolingly, encouraging her to gulp a lump which she struggled bittersweetly to swig and manipulate her throat's muscles.

"Do ya know what my mom said after I told her God didn't answer my prayers, darling?" A heavy sigh flushed her chest, seconds before posing thought-provocingly the question to the former priest, holding his gaze. He shook his head, all ears. "God always answers our prayers but it's just rarely the answer we're looking for."

"You were still a child and every child would reaction in the same situation as you, Jude." Then the former man of the cloth rubbed Jude's upper back alleviatingly continuously, wings of comfort flapping its wings and dwelling in her frail skeleton. "And I'm truly sorry to hear all this." She managed to bob her head humbly, vaguely rueful smile embellishing her face. "You have us with Edward and that little friend of ours that is so fond of you. You have Maddie and Frank too!" Timothy's berry-coloured tongue conjugated a reminder what actually the blonde has nowadays.

"I know! You're the only true friends with Maddie and Frank I've ever had, although the ordeals we've been through in the past weeks and months." The once holy priest's pink lips managed a peck on the top of the blonde's head, crouching down to pet lovingly the unnamed stray animal shortly after kneading her upper back. "And I'll talk with Maddie about the cat." The tears and dew petered out of her porcelain complexion's texture.

"Fine, but she once mentioned that her brother is strongly against having pets at their home, because of plenty of care and time they've to dedicate to the pet!" Once the younger man squatted, his delicate, strong fingers reached for the two-month-old kitten's jaw, cradling it and his small fingernails gingerly, lightly scrapping the short furred skin as the kitten purred in low voice, partly blinking his huge brass orbs. "So that means we've to take care of this cutie." In the interim, Jude wobbled up to the countertop by retrieving an empty, unused glass and pouring it with fresh, lukewarm water from the once turned faucet with its running jet water in the sink. Her rear reclined on the drawers, eyeing mirthfully the baby kitten and the British aristocrat, suckling on her upper lip, reluctant to oppress her instincts. "And to buy cat supplies from the grocery store."

"To be honest, I've already thought of a name for the cat!" Emphasis lifted momentarily Timothy's glowing stare from the kitten up to the middle-aged lady. "How about Charcoal?" Ironic, half-hearted snicker kept Jude's wits about Timothy not taking her seriously about the first name that popped up in her mind, swigging a second larger sip from the glass with cool liquid.

"Charcoal, seriously? Imagine yelling Charcoal in the rooms when he does a mess that is irreparable. "

"I'm deadly serious! By judging how gray as a charcoal is, that was the first ever name that came to my mind. Just like that!" Meantime, the British compatriot rolled his eyes, yet stroking gently, featherly the nameless stray pet's head downward to the spine.

"Don't be childish!" The huskiness of the former priest's giggle as the blonde joined him didn't fade away as a background monotonously playing on looped music. "I'm thinking of naming him Walter."

"So yeah! Walt, come to Mommy!" Her Bostonian lilt mimicked the sarcasm in using Walter as an alternative name for the two-month-old cat. "Or Walt, come to Daddy!" Her eyebrow inclined in narrow. "Hell no!"

"It's your turn to come with something original." The British compatriot's mouth opened in a mischievous grin, shimmering thousand patterns of vivacity. "Go ahead, rare bird!" Encouragment bubbled up a lump in the middle-aged lady's throat, budding lively as a thrieving plant.

"S-Stephen!"

\- _A Several Hours Later or So_ -

The both former members of the clergy spent the entire night with the kitten after having a hard time overcoming with something originally creative as a name than Stephen, besides consoling Edward Ralph, who struggled from time to time slumbering peacefully. Last but not least, they fell asleep on the sofa after having a few glasses of high-quality, scrumptious red wine.

Within the approaching wee hours of the morning, the former priest woke up with an hour earlier than his girlfriend, in order to check on their ray of sunshine and Stephen by feeding them, besides changing the baby's diapers and garments in clean, neat ones and prepare scrambled eggs with bacon for breakfast. Anyway the former licentious nightclub singer overslept with a quarter an hour and having a break hastily shortly before entering in the shower and prepare for her regular work day.

Despite Judy was running late for work after Timothy dropped her to the flowerstore with his cab, his imminent destination was the pet's store to purchase the necessary cat supplies such as grandiose packets of food, separate bowl and sandbox while Edward was accompanying him without having any intentions of leaving him home alone, factly, he's still an infant.

The radio lowly hummed its recently playing song, whilst the both flower store saleswomen were outside for fresh air during their short break after spending a couple of hours indoors without natural air purification.

The daylight dim sun's saturating sun rays filtered the snow, grand facades in the slum and strangers in saturating light, blanketing and tucking in a convenient warm blanket. Winter coats were draped across the both women's shoulders, whereas the light winter breeze fanned their hairs and exposed flesh.

"I haven't had looked after a pet since awhile, because of Roman who complained a lot that the Labrador dog we gave it to his pals did an enormous mess in our apartment." Whilst Madeleine grasped her delicate, slim fingers, curled around the mug of hot black tea, the former holy woman was all ears, attentively listening to each pelt word with humongous enthusiasm, stinging her ears and irises. "That Labrador dog was the big shot in our four-room flat. It was around three years old only and we adopted it from the shelter. His name was Otto. Otto was so playful, sweet and loyal dog." Meantime, the Bostonian heaved a deep breath, measuring her surged fresh oxygen, her chilly fingers fidgeting in a knot. Radiantly nonchalant smile flashed upon her palish face. "We took turns to take on walk Otto and he loved mostly my company, because I was the one who really gave a damn about him. He was like my son and he could be a great company to abandoned, creepy places like old, gothic mansions or godforsaken facilities that once funcitioned in the good old times." The older lady's caramel brown embers, ignited with ablaze enthusiasm and altruism were fixed on her protégé's youthfully beautiful, impressive facial features such as her glowing hazelish-brown embers, the amicable, graceful smile and her luminous shoulder length gilt mop of strands, framing her angelically youthful, round profile. "I blame my older brother for being such a bastard to give Otto to his closest friends after a half a year cares. He forbade in our household any kind of pets to be fostered and sheltered, because partly of the budget went for shitty beer cans and bottles that were keeping our refrigerator full with eggs, bacon, cheese, bread and whatever the average youth can afford for themselves."

"I can say yar brother is just a dolt. Doesn't he cares about Otto or gave a single fuck about him at least?" An eerie flat line indicated the Bostonian's frustration, her fingers lingering on her scarlet slacks' profound pocket, tipping the cotton fabric with brittle fingertips, baptized in a mild frostbite. Hesitancy whether to retrieve a package of cigarettes and lighter and lit up a cigarette during her break bedeviled the former pious nun's thoughts.

"He gave once in a while but it was just like short time. Like a rolling stone. Being there for just to patch up the hollow of his absence. Roman was there for Otto when he wasn't drunk or didn't have any intentions of being tipsy tonight with his pals in the local bar with sea of the shittiest beer cans or bottles." In the meanwhile, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's in subtle motion of yanking the cigarette pack and lighter in her balled fist by discarding the package in the slacks' pocket after a cigar length was clung between her forefinger and middle finger. "I've to admit I'd prefer top-notch bottle of vodka or rum rather than beer. The beer is just eww for me, if you have to excuse me since you're a recover alcoholic."

"It depends of the alcohol and its vendor, Maddie!" Rather a honeyed whisper dripped from the former devotional sister of the church's pink mouth, gamely winking at her. "I've a huge experience in drinking whether the most ace alcohol ever vendored or otherwise the most nauseous."

"When Roman's fingers are clung to the beer can or bottle, he forgets about his responsibilities as if he's actually a guest instead as if he isn't making the mess by himself and cleaning after everybody including himself." Sarcastic, dry snigger flexed the Michiganian's jaw, supping a handful of tiny tea sips, squinting up at her mentor's nonchalantly cocky facial features, contoured with brighter airbrush in no time, noting something fishy behind her manners and body language. "And I doubt it my brother will be for adopting Stephen in our apartment though if I try my best to hide that little buddy, on the contrary sooner everything will be clear than later." Madeleine hemmed after the Bostonian lighted up a cigarette after putting its cigar length, gapping her cherub, chapped due to the merciless mid-February weather lips, stung in widened her honey brown orbs, darted rebukingly at the cigar length after its first drag. "Hey, hey, Judy! Aren't you still breastfeeding?"

"Does it look like I'm still?" Immense sarcasm oozed of her rhetorical inquiry, chewing on her bottom plump lip after taking a second drag at her cigarette, subsequently her mouth managing a puff of erupting clouding dim.

"Your son is only five months old. He will be highly affected by the infected with tobaccos' breastmilk."

"It's the weakest cigarettes I smoke. They're anyway safer than the strong liquor." In the interval, the young woman tucked a fistful honey strands behind her petite ear, narrowing her eyebrows at Jude's recurring bad habits whilst raising an infant that scarcely almost a half a year old. Embarrassing silence stretched between the both blondes in blank gawks. "Go ahead!"

"Good for you, Judy, but better not let your boyfriend see!" The Michiganian patted affably her mentor's shoulder without oppressing a hoarse chuckle after bending to whisper past her ear, her fingers grasping the cup of tea's handle with stern firmness. "And the tobacco stuff? I remember when my mom was still breastfeeding me when I was almost a year, I didn't get infected and having any healthy issues along with her except the coughs and continous light sticky phlegms like spiderwebs struggling her. She was like a chimney. Coughing and phlegms forming like slims even though they're rougher now. She started smoking like at age 14 and she's now turning 50. I somehow feel bad for her." All of a sudden, the young lady ducked her head at the thought of her mother's bad habits in the beginning of her teenagehood, biting her tongue for a split second while swimming through her thoughts, opting to formulate a straightforward, sober reply and constructing the words in a sentence that her tongue will craft. "I don't know about your mom, but I'm sure she wasn't like you in smoking."

"She didn't have enough money to afford cigarettes and yar talking about as if she's much better than me." After another drag at her cigar and emitting a hoary dim, fogging the proximity they shared altogether. "My father actually smoked a lot but he left us when I was five years old."

"Sorry to interrupt but I'll leave the mug on the desk if that's alright." Afterwards the juvenile blonde approached her mentor as their faces barely shared a few inches proximity. "And I'd take a pass on that one if I were pregnant or breastfeeding an infant, okay?" At the moment, the senior blonde managed a nod, whereas Madeleine entered in the flowerstore to leave the cup of her halfly emptied tea on the bureau, consequently snatching the cancer stick in subtly swift motion. "Think we've been bogarting this gorgon long enough."

"Hey!" Once Jude's protégé took an innocent puff at her cigar, withdrawing with a couple of inches distance, emitting self-indulgently a smug, ashy smoke, floating in a calm cloud, whereas the older lady narrowed her eyebrows and hazelish-brown pools at Madeleine, her jaw chattering in the hiss. "Bring my cigarette back!" Grotesque frown troubled her roseate, chapped, flaking due to the frigid weather lips.

"Sorry, pal! Nobody can do!" Desultrious, girlish giggle snapped, incredulity and irony punctured in her deride.

"It's my cigarette. My flowerstore. My business." Suddenly the senior blonde strolled up to her protégé, flashing a glare at her.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Bring it back!"

"Why don't we call it a day about smoking? If you promise that's the last cigarette to be in front of my eyes for today, I swear I won't let to know Timothy about it." The division vibrantly contrasted with Madeleine's lightness, optimism and acerbity, cusping and antagonizing Jude's lividness, irk and impulsivity, projecting her darker side with the heating adrenaline, pumping into her veins. "All right, Judy? We good?"

"The cigarette," The middle-aged woman emphasized, growling under her breath. "Now!" Then Madeleine meekly handed back the cigar length to the former member of the clergy without having any intentions of testing her patience, grinning mischievously, childlikely.

All of a sudden, Martha was tiptoeing on the opposite sidewalk, in order to not being detected by the Bostonian and the Michiganian. Her spongy, strawberry tongue twirled in licking her upper lip slyly, glimpsing at the both antagonists, averting her gaze away once they meet even held hers. Even when it was oblivious for the brunette earned the studious gawk, indicating contempt, the Bostonian tossed recklessly the almost smoked cigar at the brunette until the nicotine nudged her elbow, whereas Jude and Madeleine entered in the flowerstore back, pretending as if nothing has happened and not being caught by the infamous serial killer's daughter.

"C-Christ!" Martha's grumble limped with a stutter, scorching with malicious smolder tint, tinting her knobby elbow by burning its pantaletot's wool fabric. Her chocolate brown orbs, blanched with fury squinted at the burnt wool pantaletot's sleeve, contouring her lean, knobby elbow.

"Look how stupid appears to be Cayden's daughter." Jubilancy in the both flowerstore saleswomen emerged, gawking with incredulity at the brunette who stomped with her knee length boot the extinguished cancer stick, barking in a murmur snarl, gritting her ivory, still firm for her frail age teeth.

"_Ooh I need your love, babe__! __Guess you know it's true__! __Hope you need my love babe__! __Just like I need you__! __Hold me, love me, hold me, love me__! __I ain't got nothing but love, babe__!_" The Beatles' song Eight Days a Week was recently playing on the radio, whereas the Bostonian thrummed melodiously and the Michiganian's rosy-coloured, soft as satin lips seized in a relaxing purse until Martha glanced at the flowerstore blankly, jadedly with a glare and frown, indicating her barbaric ire and grotesque nonplus for being unable to flourish control as a second nature, attached to her temper.

"Let's pretend as if we didn't do anything wrong. And we're just ordinary flowerstore saleswomen, Maddie, okay?" The former pious woman of the cloth's roseate, chapped, glinting like outstanding rock's lamina, layering thinly its mineral. In the meantime, the young lady sipped her colder black tea with an inch liquid and managed a nod.

While Judy and Madeleine were working diligently in the flowerstore and selling plants and flowers, meanwhile, Timothy was at home, looking after Edward and Stephen by feeding them and spending his leisure time with both of them.

The kitten was currently catnapping on the couch alongside the former holy man, reclining and rocking the little boy, nestled in the nest of his strong, protective arms. Pair of huge, artless caramel brown orbs was transfixed on his father's parchment, youthful with scarcely any lightheavy wrinkles, adorning inescapably the facial skin. The sweet, eloquent cooing to Timothy tingled relief and serenity, blooming his radiant, elating smile, embellishing his baby pinkish lips, lowering his doting stare to his son, swaying him.

"Look at you, honey! You're as beautiful as your mother!" The warm words unzipped Edward's lips to reproduce another cheerful coo, stretching his tiny hands as his pudgy, baby-like fingers to touch and admire his father's attractive facial features. Childlike interest elucidated on his round face. At the moment, the former ambitious Monsignor's pristinely strong, headstrong fingers stroke and cradled the young boy's cheek. The well-scuptured dimples emerged once the former member of the church's love child grin perched on his baby pinkish lips.

"Dada!"

"I truly mean it!" In the interval, the front door's ring hummed, catching off guard the British aristocrat and his ray of sunshine, stung his coffee brown pools widened, whereas nipping his lower lip self-consciously. "I'm uncertain who's that rogue or who's supposed to be." Then he lifted up from the sofa, subsequently rocking in one of his secure, muscly arms the infant, walking away from the living room up to the corridor until his only free hand's fingers clumsily worked on the key in the keyhole and within a single click the front door was unlocked lastly until his chocolate brown irises were embraced by the sight of Polish-American with somewhat Canadian roots, bones neatly clad in a winter coat and costume's figure, standing beside the former aspiring Monsignor. Cocky, nonetheless, sympathetic smirk flexed his sharp jawline, symmetrically matching with his half Slavian half Canadian facial features. Midnight black top hat capped his medium blonde, well-trimmed haircut. His photogenically turquoise embers with the most pellucid turquoise pigment, reflecting his true nature of a diligent, cocksure lawyer were goggled on Timothy's insecure, nonchalant and warm chocolate brown embers.

"Hello, Mister!"

"Hello Mr. Howard! May I come?"

"Yes, sure!"

"Thank you very much for your hospitability, Mr. Howard!" Meantime, the Polish-American set a foot in the hallway by stripping off his pantaletot from his frail skeleton, whereas Timothy shut the front door politely and the infant's hazelish-brown orbs peeped past his father, in order to study the stranger lawyer. "I know that you haven't done anything wrong against Ms. Gray and there are going to be charges over Miss Martha Gray over the lies she charged you yesterday, but I want to make sure some things to be discussed even out of my office and in face-to-face." The hoarseness in his Wisconsin lilt didn't vanish, gruffily clearing his throat after hanging his coat on the coat hanger, whereas the younger man ushered the Polish-American to escort him to the living room, bouncing with his occupied arm steadily Edward, pecking a tender, feather kiss on his forehead.

"Excuse me, sir? Before starting this serious discussion, how I can call you?" The awkwardness in the both men's conversation escalated to intensifying insecurity as wings of self-esteem flapped vehemently, subsequently soared away from its nest of his pride and self-esteem's barriers.

"I'm so sorry for not introducing myself, Mr. Howard," When the both men seated on the both armchairs against one another, gulping a bittersweet lump in the back of his throat with struggle, dryness lacing its muscles. "I'm Gus Furmanek. A Vermont's lawyer."

"Mr. Furmanek! It's good to see you." Then they lifted up from their own seats, shaking their hands formally as an addition to the introduction, vaguely smiling. "Timothy Howard!"

"Mr. Howard, it would be better if you just call me Gus instead Mr. Furmanek! It makes me quite nervous."

"Gus!" In the meanwhile, the British aristocrat repeated rhythmically the simple attorney's first name. "Gus, do you need some coffee, tea or water?"

"I'd like a glass of water, please!" Husky cough wracked the attorney, palming his chest, whilst the host got from the armchair by retrieving a glass of fresh, cold water for his guest and returning within less than a minute from the kitchen. "Thank you very much, Timothy!" Little did the British aristocrat knew how the bizarre Wisconsian could just come over the privately owned property with barely having an interaction ever before and asking for his counsel, in fact, as usually the new clients ofa lawyer just attended his office prophylatically instead of paying visits to the civilians' homes. After a couple of sips from the glass of liquid, thereafter Gus left aloof the glass on the coffee table. "I know so far that there was a key witness on the gas station, who also knows about the happened in the store."

"Yes, my girlfriend Judy!"

"I see!" Then Gus's azure blue pools scanned, holding a scrutinizing gaze with the infant, chewing on his upper lip, whilst his mind tried to formulate a rational question or phrase, reprimanding it directly. Vaguely childlike smile blurred his cocksure smirk, eerily recognizing that the baby resembled not only his mother, but also his father, weighing on scales' the once holy priest's words about his relationship with the key witness on the gas station. "Is she over there?"

"No, she's atwork!"

"I understand. Timothy! I'd like to see also Ms. Martin in face-to-face to have a serious discussion with her about it, but you're enough since you're victim of Cayden's daughter lies and I'll gladly defend your side, in case, if the scales lean to Ms. Gray's side more."

"I'd like to thank you for the offer, Gus! And it would be a great opportunity to increase the chances of Gray's family to lose." Another door ring drone and startling the both adults, whilst the former member of the church's love child bleated a shrilling blunt whine from the top of his tiny lungs in the form of throaty croak. "I'll be right back in a few minutes, Gus! If that's okay."

"Of course, it's alright, Timothy! Go ahead!"

In the meanwhile, the former holy man got from the armchair, bouncing and shushing to his son consolingly.

"Shhh, cupcake, everything will be fine! It seems Daddy has a guest and let's hope it's not just another uninvited guest." Timothy muffled a whisper, leaning by pressing a kiss to his ray of sunshine's cheek, muffling his pleas and whines. Within stepping beside the front door and opening it, a stranger man with somewhat heavy wrinkles, inked on his parchment complexion along with the dark, faintly hoary hair that was losing its hairy scales with the inevitable aging process held in his gloved, calloused hands an enveloped feminine perfume. "Excuse me?" The younger man faked his breathing as if he's managed a running marathon for a few hours without a regular rest, lowering his glimpse to notice the enveloped with an elegant auburn red ribbon, tying a tight knot below the tap. Uncertainly haughty smile adorned Sebastian's face. "Mister, I'm afraid to inform you you've mistaken the address or you've accidentally are about to deliver to the wrong customer."

"No, sir! Your friend ordered this perfume for herself."

"Did she?" The British compatriot shook continuously his head, incapable of believing any word, formulating Sebastian's utterance, while uneasily biting his lower lip and grimacing his young-looking yet, alabaster complexion. "She hasn't told me anything and there's no file or document, proving that this perfume is ordered at any cost! I'm telling you this perfume is doubtfully delivered to the wrong household."

"Are you actually Timothy Howard?" The middle-aged man's enquiry caught off guard the British aristocrat in the sharp emphasis, whilst rocking the infant in his toned, satin arm.

"Excuse me? I don't know anybody else whose name is Timothy Howard." Sardonism accentuated on the punchline of his joke which the infamous serial killer's sibling didn't fathom it at all, quirking quizzically his eyebrow.

"Then what's your name, sir?"

"William Davis!" The eloquence in spelling his fake name, in order to bamboozle and evade trouble with the stranger was blindly believed without thinking twice.

"Mr. Davis, hmmm! It doesn't sound that British at all. May I ask you if you're an ex-priest?" Frown twisted across the younger man's pale pinkish lips, squinting up at Sebastian's chocolate brown embers.

"No, no, I used to be actually an accountant but I'm now jobless and struggling to find an employment, in fact, it's not California or New York." Sarcasm lingered on his tongue, opting to craft lies and evade detection of his real identity by the dubious older gentleman. "What are those personal questions, Mister?" All of a sudden, the thought of his personal space being endangered with prying questions about his career and name were far from miraculous. Angst pumped into his veins and increasing the heart rate, pulsations tingling trouble into his ears.

"In case to assimilate if I haven't actually arrived on the wrong address as you claim, Mr. Davis!" Meanwhile, the former man of the cloth bounced into his arm Edward, hushing him with melodical hum, reluctance muting his pleas and whines, earning his loving, soft father's look. "And since your friend hasn't ordered the perfume, then I'm giving it as a personal gift to deliver it to her."

"No, no!" The British compatriot's headstrong nature was unlocked when Sebastian attempted to hand the perfume until he shook his forefinger, rejecting respectfully, politely the offer of a personal gift without having any heinous intentions of breaking the law. "Just no! It's quite embarrassing."

"Sir, I'm giving you a last chance to obtain it and you're missing the boat."

"I'll be good without it. My friend has enough perfumes to satisfy herself and this brand," Then his cocoa brown irises surveyed in a scrutiny the unknown perfume brand and its shape. The doubtful fragrance of excessive soft oriental, floral perfume, the reek of tobacco and bleach wounded on Timothy's sensitive, flexible nostrils. "This brand doesn't seem reliable even it's unidentified at all. I'm so sorry, sir!" Ironic, sinister smile blurred Timothy's frown, pushing the perfume back to the leery stranger's gloved hand, chuckling in low voice. "I can't trust brands for perfumes or another cosmetics that might contain suspicious chemicals even lethal elements in it. Keep it for yourself or the client you're about to deliver it in their own risk!"

"Fine! I'm really sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Davis! I hope you have a nice day!" At the moment, the middle-aged gentleman bowed his head crestfallenly for the fiasco he accomplished, waving tactfully at the younger man, walking away from him as the proximity maximized with each elapsing second, his boots stomping the freshly cleaned path to the Victorian style gates.

"Have a nice day, sir! Farewell!"

"I didn't mean to pry or something, Timothy, but who was on the door?" The Polish-American's inquiry scratched with hydration his throat, clearing his throat whilst rubbing gingerly with his dexterous, attorney-like fingers the delicate neck's flesh.

"It was a man with grizzly dark hair and wih beard, besides he seemed quite suspicious and he'd deep voice." Shortly before the reply, the British compatriot flushed a heavy sigh, holding his studious, grave stare with Gus. "For unknown reason, he looked simply familiar to me or I'm just hallucinating!"

"I got you! It's Cayden's brother, Sebastian!"

"W-What?" The sharp tone of the merely posed question of Timothy, widening his eyes in shock, scratching unnervedly with his small, well-trimmed fingernails his chestnut hair's scalp and pursing boyishly his pink lips. "I knew that Cayden has a brother and a daughter but I didn't realize they'll eerily alook like." The Wisconsian winked gamely, unintelligibly at his new client, wryly, half-heartedly tittering.

"Good for you! Now you know what's his name now."

"I'm proud of myself I avoided trouble somehow by lying to him that I'm not Timothy Howard and for mistaking the address for the ordered perfume which I or Jude would never order."

"Even as a former priest, you know lie is a sin but that's a good attempt to save your skin as well!"

\- _An Hour Later or So_ -

The Bostonian fled her workplace slightly earlier with an hour, in order to have a drink in the nigh bar and relax, whilst Madeleine resumed working until her shift is lastly over to go back at home.

As soon as the former licentious jazz nightclub singer stepped inside the bar and approaching the bar's wobbly, bizzarely uncomfortable stools by sitting on one of them, the barman approached her promptly after noting one of his recent customers to fill the hollow of his spare time after his nimble fingers caressing galore variety of alcoholic bottles and pouring them in glasses. Furthermore, the bar wasn't crowded at all in the wee hours of the evening. It could be numbered precisely as approximately slightly over ten people having their own drinks, exchanging shenanigans and diversity of stories from their daily lives with blatant laughters and screams, deflating their adrenaline and articulating their genuine emotions and feelings.

"What would you like, ma'am?" The bartender asked simply with a gracious smile, curling his pale lips, whilst the television's sound hummed and the screen was illustration Cat Ballou the Western movie as an attraction for the customers.

"One rye whiskey Joseph Seagram, please!" The middle-aged lady ordered when the bartender researched for the rye whiskey Joseph Seagram on the exquisitely polished shelf with rich collection of rye whiskey brands, sorted neatly. Without having any intentions of breaking the eye contact with the senior gentleman, moving her glassy gawk to the prepared scotch glass, suckling on her lower plumpish lip at the complacent sight of liquor, flowing from the removed bottle's tap, splashing like a tossed rock in the misty shore. Throughout the barman pushed the scotch glass after finishing with filling it up to Judy. "Thank ya!"

At the moment, Judy shifted her attention to the television screen, eyeing blankly after chugging a handful of Lilliputian, greedy sips, lacing her tongue with inciting guilty pleasure. Scanning the main characters's actions were impressive for her especially noting the shining star of the current generation of old Hollywood Jane Fonda, donned in Wild West's attires and her hypnotically photogenically ocean blue eyes and the lion mane of sleek gilded curls, framing her angelic profile.

Suddenly an older woman strangely set a foot in the bar, located in Vermont's slums by ordering for herself rye whiskey Joseph Seagram as the poured liquor in the separate scotch glass was served to her within less than a half a minute later, sipping of her glass of rye whiskey after the endless day elapsed as much as her early fifties.

"What an endless day, stranger!" The older lady attracted momentarily the former devotional sister of the church's attention, averting her honey brown pools from the television screen and meeting the promising, calmest ocean blue eyes, alight by the younger lady's direct attention. Benevolently calm smile parted the medium golden blonde's conservatively mauve lips. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all!" After licking greedily her cherub roseate lips, lavish rye whiskey greasing them, she returned the smile to the stranger woman. "It was a fantastic mix of stress, work, family and romance!"

The older woman stood approximately 5'7 with two inches above the former holy woman, whereas her body structure was lean with heavier wrinkles than her, weighing and indicating her real age. The inexlorable wrinkles curled when the senior blonde's smile crinkled upon her parchment, aged facial skin. Her olive-tanned skin tone ideally matched with her graceful facial features for her early fifties. Her birth town was actually Ohio though her emigration, due to personal reasons. Further, the mother of twins has just finished her shift as a hotel's booking agent. Her name was actually Louise Roberts. Last but not least, Louise was well-scholared woman, although entering in the world of motherhood and adulthood at age sixteen and via the aid of her parents, who were also obligated to look after her children to prevent their alienation in the orphanages after having an adroit relationship with her first ever boyfriend in her life and head over heels in love with him as the oblivion of the hazards and pregnancies in the late teenagehood weren't clouding their thoughts at all.

"So that's why you're here for a drink, ma'am?" Louise's utterance with her friendly Ohio lilt tingled angelic hymns in the Bostonian's ears, raspiness accentuating her girlish, coy giggle, stilling her rye whiskey-stained tongue.

"And just for killing my early off time from work to not resurrect the malicious scorpions of worries of my boyfriend."

"Ah, I see! I'm just a widow with twins and my husband actually passed away a few years ago, unfortunately!" Meantime, she snorted in a deep breath the lavish aroma of brown liquor. "And he's actually my first ever love of my life. What about your boyfriend?"

"I'm very sorry to hear it. I'm definitely sure he's on much better place. And my boyfriend is actually my second and last love of my life." The huskiness in Bostonian's lilt spellbind by the booking agent in general.

"My twins are a daughter and a son, having them when I was a high school student. I know what a big taboo is having kids in the good old high school days. And now being a blissful grandmother of triplets, who are really alook like their gorgeous mother."

"Good for ya! Our baby son is just turning five months old in a couple of days."

"Those kids are mindblowingly growing and they're just like a trace of your roots, left behind." The booking agent's lips, baptized in generous layer of liquor curled, whilst curling her trembling toes in her boots. "Could you imagine this miracle?"

"It's not just a miracle. It's photogenically breathtaking especially being a parent whether of almost a toddler or an adolescent."

"I realized how much my son grew up even when I saw him for first time with a woman by his side after rejecting many years to be in a serious relationship." Her mauve lips parted in the scoff, her slim fingers absently playing with the flimsy scotch glass. "To change his worldview and stop playing the unblemished young boy with his own narrow-minded world."

"Sometimes people don't feel fully ready to fight with serious relationships and stay virgins even at age forty. It's their own decision and problem at all." In the interim, Jude suckled on her upper lip idly, surreptiously. "I fought with that during my early adulthood but had a big fear of escaping this fear for a few decades. It's just," Her roseate, rye whiskey-stained lips managed a pensive, rueful purse, swimming through the graphic, sinister images of her past with her first ever serious relationship with her former fiance and then having a second and last ever romantic relationship with nobody else than a former pious man of the cloth with two homelands. The fear of rejection and the phobia of felicity were her top austere topics for discussion and fathoming the escape from the despondent symptoms, haunting her for two straight decades at least. Once getting out from the abusive relationship with her former fiancé Casey, consequently the former sleazy nightclub singer struggled with depression and contaminating her with symptoms of fear of rejection and felicity from the savage representatives of the opposite sex by numbing the pain and heartbreaks with an ease of the intoxicating liquor and one-night stands. "It's just too painful the escape but it's worth it. It's worth to be experienced even having any clue what the hell is actually going on, despite yar young age rather than asking yarself what on earth yar doing with yar life when that happens later than the most lucky or unlucky people."

"I think I've to agree with you. But my son has never been in a serious relationship until now. He behaves stupidly understandable."

"So as my boyfriend but I don't blame him. Everybody's fool when they're in love." All of a sudden, eerily reconigsable masculine footsteps echoed, clicking against the floor, whilst the former holy woman kept her wits about the unknown bar's visitor, leaning by whispering past Louise's ear seriously. "Ma'am, I've a bad feeling! Let's go in the restroom." Shortly before lifting up their rears from their seats, Judy retrieved money after unzipping her purse and rummaging its wallet to toss carelessly the bill for the alcoholic beverages without having any intentions of returning back and finishing their drinks. Jude and Louise's epidermis mapped in electrifying, mortifying goosebumps.

"Are you actually serious?" Then Judy violently dragged Louise, attempting to not draw Cayden's attention whilst his top hat casted a shadow, veiling his parchment face. For the Bostonian's surprise, the widow didn't writhe in her grip, dragging her to the women's restroom, whilst the Italian compatriot seated one of the wobbly bar stools, ordering himself a glass of brown liquor to calm his nerves by sipping from its scotch glass until he slowly rotated his face, noting his former victim and love interest dragging the widow in the women's restroom. His mouth opened in a vain grin, tittering inwardly to himself whilst fixing his top hat. His sixth sense urged him to escort the both older women to the toilets after lugging his burly figure from the bar stool, strutting subtly and following their tracks.

"Shh! We'll be good by getting out from the bathroom's window by helping me to open the fricking window!" The younger lady murmured a caution, shushing panically to Louise, whilst in a single click the female's restroom was locked.

"Judy! I know you're right there." The deep, morbidly seductive undertone of the psychopath's reprimand sent the both women's chills, whereas the younger blonde's jaw chattered, gritting her ivory teeth, whilst the booking agent attempted to open the restroom's window. "We'll be good if you just open this door. We need something to discuss."

"Be quicker!" Suddenly a couple of louder door raps whacked on the locked door, whereas the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's scurried up to the older lady, shrugging her shoulders bashfully in the limited time they'd to escape the bar until the bartender noted one of his customers left aloof his drink without paying directly the bill and most of all, grimacing his face and grotesque rebuke contoured his wrinkles and facial features, patting kindly the Italian compatriot's shoulder to attract his attention, in spite of the ticklish sensation resuscitating his husky, rusty cackle. "And I'm so sorry for the awkwardness but may I know yar name?"

"Louise Roberts! And it's nice to meet you!"

"Nice to meet ya too, Louise! It's just Judy Martin." After the Ohion's attempts of her trembling fingers unbuckling the window and pulling its underground window.

"Sir, you don't have an access to the ladies' room!"

"I don't have time for games, Judy! Open the door!" The sharp tone of the notorious serial killer's scold after opting to break into the ladies' room didn't stop in a halt the both women's task, abiding unfinished as they didn't have anywhere to hide except in the restroom's cabinets and locking themselves.


	21. Sub Rosa

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"It's that...It's that pathetic ex-priest, who accused me I was the liar in the case and our family's gooses will be cooked if we dare to hurt anybody from his inner circle."_

_"Sorry for interrupting you, baby doll, but would you like something to drink or eat?"  
_

_"So as you've a secret, I really can't tell mine too I can't give you away my secrets just like that. But I assure you, you will be on fire with it!"_

_"Wait, what you doing there?"  
_

_"It depends of the alcohol and its vendor, Maddie! I've a huge experience in drinking whether the most ace alcohol ever vendored or otherwise the most nauseous."_

_"When Roman's fingers are clung to the beer can or bottle, he forgets about his responsibilities as if he's actually a guest instead as if he isn't making the mess by himself and cleaning after everybody including himself. And I doubt it my brother will be for adopting Stephen in our apartment though if I try my best to hide that little buddy, on the contrary sooner everything will be clear than later. "Hey, hey, Judy! Aren't you still breastfeeding?"_

_"Mr. Davis, hmmm! It doesn't sound that British at all. May I ask you if you're an ex-priest?"_

_"No, no, I used to be actually an accountant but I'm now jobless and struggling to find an employment, in fact, it's not California or New York. "What are those personal questions, Mister?"_

_"I'm proud of myself I avoided trouble somehow by lying to him that I'm not Timothy Howard and for mistaking the address for the ordered perfume which I or Jude would never order."_

_"Even as a former priest, you know lie is a sin but that's a good attempt to save your skin as well!"_

_"Sometimes people don't feel fully ready to fight with serious relationships and stay virgins even at age forty. It's their own decision and problem at all. I fought with that during my early adulthood but had a big fear of escaping this fear for a few decades. It's just...It's just too painful the escape but it's worth it. It's worth to be experienced even having any clue what the hell is actually going on, despite yar young age rather than asking yarself what on earth yar doing with yar life when that happens later than the most lucky or unlucky people."_

_"I think I've to agree with you. But my son has never been in a serious relationship until now. He behaves stupidly understandable."_

_Crystalline, tiny beehive of startled bees snowflakes pelted down the ordinary Vermont late winter's prospect. An ordinary Vermont late winter's common chilly climate weaving in the entire state. Whether if it's February or March, the weather was just sufficiently bearable chilly, commencing to smooth the vividest winter fragments as a solved puzzle and extricating slowly but surely every puzzle piece, whilst replacing it with more vivid piece of the puzzle, matching with the imminent astronomical season's sunrise. The spring. It was far from balmy and rainy episodical part of the season at all. Again the insurmountable snowfall, ineludible blizzards and glacial winds were showering Vermont's urban and outskirts' territories._

_The dim sunlight filtered everything below as a divine power, judging and determining the weather's morality especially when it's radically frosty and sunless. Sheening smiles dispersed its light, beaming at every surrounding and immobile surrounding that was part of the prospect. Bright yellow filter showering in luminous sunlight, guarding them from the common frosty climate._

_The bare, rawboned long trees' branches were slightly disparaged in the edges with ash-stained reek, contaminating the wood._

_The reek of ashes, death and scorched could be inhaled with an ease, nevertheless, grueling for evading and bunging with a couple of fingers sensitive nostrils like vehemently smoking chimneys of train wagons and houses, polluting with its own filth and metaphorical chastity._

_The fresh late winter air clashed with the ashy, pungent stench for hours on the spot of the exploded vehicle, trapped in inevitable flames after the planted bomb in its luggage carrier. The driver could hear the bomb's ticking but it was too late to do anything about it._

_The bomb took with itself two victims. The death was approaching. The death found its new home. In the corpses of the car assissantion. The vehicle was as black as midnight and the death, itself. Speaking the language of the trouble and lethality. It was freshly midnight black. However, after the explosion, the opacity of fresh, luster midnight black promptly diminished and overall discolor or rather, the color of the subtle lethality brushed with its ashes and consequences of the eruption._

_The pious or sufficiently pious people would confirm God's judgmental, studious divine eyes, fixated on everything below happening, ceasing to exist or already occurred. God only knew who could be the one who planted the bomb in the luggage carrier of the once seared in ashes cab, consequently dissipation of adequate functioning in the engine after the inhumane, blistering flames condemning the car from being drivable and left dumped like godforsaken, unexplainable ruins._

_The vehement symphony of police and ambulance sirens gauged their high-pitched screeches as background noises, keeping wits about their current task on the occupied zone to investigate the godforsaken, burnt car._

_The corpses were blanketed exquisitely with sheerly cotton oyster-white blankets, bundling their motionless skeletons and lugging them from the lavish snowy carpet up to the ambulance vehicle until their transporation was managed to situate them in the morgue._

_Oyster-white metaphorically, somberly contrasting the bleak death, finding its new home in the blanketed immobile bodies and playing major roles in the victims, atmosphere and humor._

_White as an inherently positive color, wielding galore of notions, illustrates resplendently each emotion, feeling and trait, concertized in its general concept and the translucency. Indeed, innocence, purity, heaven, goodwill, brilliance, safety, illumination, faith, dawn and spirituality._

_What about the bleak death? As an epilogue of every mortal, that was obviously the end of everything. The cease of existence. The trance from incessant actions, engaging in every mortal's character and situation development up to the ethereally eternal sleep for the once uninvited guest that nhabited variety corners of the crudely cold, enormous world nonetheless. When every mortal is drifted off in an eternal slumber, where they go? Three way directions could guide their ethereally timeless souls after vacating themselves from the mortal's motionless corpse. Three way sign indicated ideally the disoriented soul where it truly belongs. The central sign indicated its direct path up to the purgatory. The left one was obviously heaven, whilst the right one hell, of course!_

_Moreover, the death's genuine color illustration was black especially possible the most somber, the most melancholic and neat black. Indiscernible black._

_Within a handful of minutes, the scrannel police and ambulance sirens courageously ebbed out in the background after the dead bodies were driven to their imminent and final destination. Namely the morgue. The authorities have already inspected in a scrutiny every detail, reckoning the pettiest about the exploded cab from the car's roof to the sheerly hoary car wheels._

_Vermont's countryside was mourning in a modicum of wistful grotesque two viciously burnt to death victims after a car explosion and not fleeing the vehicle earlier within minutes, delaying the agony they've already brought to their inner circle._

_The silence and the death triumphiantly celebrated. Dances of death spiraling circa the burnt car and the remnants, numbering the teddy bear tossed on the passenger backseat like a rag doll. Diminishing the opacity of its luster fabric and color._

"I don't have time for games, Judy! Open the door!" The sharp tone of the notorious serial killer's scold after opting to break into the ladies' room didn't stop in a halt the both women's task, abiding unfinished as they didn't have anywhere to hide except in the restroom's cabinets and locking themselves.

"Sir, you're nothing than an embarrassment and troublemaker! The police will be here within a few minutes after I phone them." The bartender scooted up to the payphone after inserting a coin after dialing the police's number with his fidgety, self-consciously meaty fingers after pressing a button. He bit his lower lip hesitantly, the heart rate increasing rapidly and ire pulsating into his burly figure. One of his colossal, stiffly veiny hand's fingers shook whilst keeping the earpiece to his sensitive ear.

"You are now talking with Detective Anderson. What I may help you with, sir?" The sudden echo of a hoarse voice, apprehensively licking with his strawberry-coloured, wet tongue his thick, lavish handlebar moustache sent him shivers down his spine.

The swarm of inquisitive, big round eyes, transfixed on the vicious serial killer could be read with a stark eye and brilliant sanity, retaining nothing more than mortification, nonplus and obfuscation. Some of the customers choked on their drinks, unable adequately to gulp the sweet sip, lacing their dry mouths' corners. Whereas other customers didn't have any intentions to stay any longer in the bar, in fact, the bone-chilly sensation of peril intensified their adrenalines, pumping into their veins.

"There's an intruder, seeming as the serial killer you're looking for and he's trying to break in the women's restroom. I have a bad feeling about this." Heavy sigh flushed jadedly from his large-sized torso, wiping the generous layer of perspiration, coating his forehead. In the meanwhile, Cayden retrieved his butcher knife from his winter pantaletot, grappling firmly with a grasp the wooden handle and attempting to chop the door, licking greedily, complacently his pale-pinkish lips.

"From where the call comes from?"

"From bar Felicity. The suspicious guy will harm one of the clients within a few minutes! The time is limited." His jaw chattered, whilst gritting firmly his pair of yellowed by the tobacco teeth with a couple of missing teeth, glancing at Cayden. His breathing hitched momentarily, hesitating to inhale the amalgamating fragrance of sinfully sweet, opulent alcohol, the reek of vomit, sweat and pungnent perfumes. His heart sunk in angst, combating his sanity how to not be responsible for one of his clients' harm or eventual death.

"Thank you for your signal! Police will arrive on bar Felicity within a few minutes only! Stay safe and evacuate your clients to leave for their safety!" After clearing with a horse cough Detective Anderson's throat, stern caution lingered on his tongue shortly before the Italian compatriot charged up to the bartender to stab him, in spite of evading the attempted stab as the butcher knife cuts the payphone's long, curly cord, cutting off the phone call, whilst returning to his working spot by rummaging one of the dressing table's drawers unhesitantly, his breath heavily hitching. The earpiece was already discarded on the floor after the cord was partly cut off with the butcher knife. His paniced fingers fiddled the firmer, colder item until his proximity with the infamous serial killer diminished less than a foot. After the older man was equipped with the revolver, he aimed it accurately at the intruder, gritting his teeth, withdrawing with a handful of inches from the younger man.

"Clients, you need to leave! That's what the police informed me about your safety! I don't want anybody of you to be my shoulders' painful burden!" The older man bleated a strict, half-hearted croaked caution, his fingers curled around the revolver's trigger, his pale lips twisted downward in a pout. In the interim, the ocean of customers lifted up from their seats and fled the bar within less than a minute docilely without having any intentions of turning their backs.

"Do you know what is worse than an attempted raped victim and whining to her gay boyfriend and jackass blond friend though I knew they're way worse in the beginning than her?" The masculinely elegant, slow stomping footsteps echoed against the luxuriously carpeted flooring, echoing a notorious tune, tingling into his ears. The barman hesitantly awaited to press the trigger, managed to swallow hard a gulp in the back of his throat, grimacing his complexion with sufficiently heavy wrinkles, inescapably adorning it. "Or rather the trouble the Holy Trinity got me in? Huh?" Meantime, the Italian compatriot's deep voice was accented with hostility and huskiness. "To call the cops on one of your most loyal clients. Years after ordering these drop-dead gorgeously tasty liquors and then thanking me for my loyality by trying to hurt me with your gun and calling the police on me." Lethal sarcasm rolled in the venomly toxic pool and enveloping it with fatalistic venom, slipping from his serpentine tongue didn't startle the barkeeper at all. Sly, smug with vague cues of betrayal and despondence smile curled upon the psychopath's baby pinkish lips. "Don't be ridiculous, because soon you will be the next one, who will be part of my list with candidates for tearing off your life on the tiniest pieces!"

"You didn't mean harm to the bar and me until you tried to break in the women's restroom just because of the both clients especially being after that blonde. I think this bar doesn't deserve to serve you kindness. Never again!" The sharp tone of the baleful emphasis tingled notorious tunes to the psychopath, growling inwardly.

"Go to hell!" When Cayden tried to bend against his prey and chop in a swoft motion, a bullet blasted his forearm after the barkeeper pushed the trigger. The sound of shot bullet startled the both middle-aged women in the public women restrooms as Louise protracted her petite, smooth hand, offering Jude's freedom to flee the bar before it was too late and Cayden broke in the restroom by viciously slaughtering them. "Jesus! You fucking prick. I don't know why but I shouldn't have stepped in this bar much earlier and order from your drinks. What a waste of money and time on somebody who might harm me though you won't get away for this shot bullet in my forearm! Guess who's going to see the jailbars along with me for an attempted homicide!"

"Whoa! What a hellish ruckus is going in the bar, Louise!" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer's punchline of the rhetorical joke, chewing on her lower plumpish lip earned the senior blonde's quirk between her eyebrows, narrowing her thin eyebrows. "We can leave the restroom while Cayden is minding his own business with the bartender."

"No! Think twice before leaving me waiting for you outside and stretching my hand just because of you." The headstrong nature of Louise resuscitated abruptly after the both ladies' disagreements swam through their clash. "Don't be so childish! Cayden may change his mind if you dump me right there." The Ohion hissed balefully, opting to persuade Jude to join the freedom with her by climbing the wall and subsequently reaching for the window and crawling, whereas the former devotional nun rolled her eyes, her lips trembling in a huff. "Now take my hand and let's get out of this hellhole!"

"I promise we'll be way quicker than he thinks and we will try our best to escape the bar in the quickest way." In the meanwhile, the notoriously reedy police sirens encompassed the façade after the elapsed minutes, bearing a semblance of elapsed hours until the authorities occupied each corner of the bar lastly. "We good? The police are here for Cayden. This must kill our worries." Meanwhile, the former sister of the church strolled up to the restroom's door, unlocking it in a single click, clicking her tongue and a heavy, jaded sigh surged from the top of Louise's brittle lungs while squatting and eyeing blankly the washroom's magenta tiled flooring. "C'mon, Louise! We ain't got a lot of time."

"I don't have time to listen to your babbling! C'mon! The window is one of your last hopes."

"Police! Raise your hands in the air and drop the butcher knife, sir!" After a couple of cops broke in the bar, leaving ajar opened the front door, their revolvers were aimed directly to the Italian compatriot, who hesitantly turned to the owners' command, licking greedily, gamely his lips. In the interval, he managed to slowly but surely raise his hands in the air, obeying meekly their command. "The knife, sir! On the floor, if you don't want the consequences to cost anything that's your worth!" A handful of police officers rebuked coldheartedly louder, whilst the psychopath sluggishly was approaching the horde of police officers. Mouthful scowl almost died in a whisper, awaiting for the ideal moment to attack one of the policemen at least and flee the façade in a jiff.

Syllables and vowels limped up in the beginning of Cayden's tongue, pondering profoundly in his ocean of thoughts and sailing through them, puckering his baby pinkish, rye whiskey-stained lips.

"Hold on a second! My forearm is," In the interval, the psychopath slowly raised his mammoth, stiff hands, imitating the manipulation of the butcher knife's wooden handle slipping from his fashioned in a balled fist hand, glancing back at the piercing, rebuking glares of the policemen, hesitatintly awaiting for the Italian compatriot whether to attack them or shoot him in the imminent second if he doesn't follow obediently their command. He shrieked a plea due to the piercing bullet, assailing his forearm. Stoicness contoured his calloused facial features, baring his teeth, opting to not show signs of weakness and pain in front of the authorities.

Meanwhile, the barman observed the entire scenery with widened eyes, fixated on his long time customer, who threatened to take his life for his attempt to call the police.

"Come on, Judy! You can do it." After Judy took the outstretched amusingly creamy as satin, milky as vanilla hand, consequently sluggishly crawling underneath the underground window and within a few minutes she finally escaped from the ladies' restroom. Rising from the lavishly snowy blanketed ground, chilly palms supported her weight until her spine straightened after the older blonde aiding her. "I believed you you can do it instead of escaping the restroom from the door. Just imagine him butchering you in front of the bartender." The younger blonde's rosy-coloured, plumpish lips seized in a pensive purse, while her fingers and palms were working on the knees, dusting them off from the snow along with her rear. Snow wasn't threating frostbite on her knees and rear.

"But that's one of the choices if I'm as quick as the wind, Louise!" In the meantime, the booking agent handed the midnight black purse to the former holy woman emphatically, bobbing her head in cordial, graceful gratitude. "Thanks! Where are ya going now?"

"I'm going to see my son and might have a tea party with him." When the both ladies were walking alongside one another, their femininely docile footsteps crispily stomped the rich snow carpet. The police vehicles sirens' frequence tingled their ears with high-pitched newborn's cries, longing for his mother's touch, love, attention and food. "What about you too?"

"I'll spend time with my family and probably rest."

When the both women were no longer in the slums' bar, thereafter Cayden whisking his butcher knife by slitting three in a row cops' chests, marvelously thick blood sprutting from their heavily bleeding chests, inciting the two unharmed colleagues of their bleeding, succumbed to their slits trying to launch their revolvers with two fatal bullets, aimed to the Italian compatriot's bulky figure until he dodged the bullets, complacently and cheekily grinning at them, watching them suffering in their own wounds.

"Our command is your obligation. Now get your ass in the car before," After another whisk of the lethal melee weapon, the both police officers dropped their weightless bodies on the floor after the fatal slit, bleeding thick lake of gore. Tart reek of blood quickly unfurled after the heinous slaughter of police officers. Savage growl escaped the younger man's tongue, kneeling side the motionless, bleeding police corpses, consequently submerged in rich bloodpool. Furthermore, one of the once alive cops' mid-sentence abided unfinished. The barkeeper's grimaced face was lathered in perspiration of angst, reflexing his fear of his most loyal customer through the years until his baleful demeanor indicated the actual hazards.

"Get out of my bar, monster! We won't serve your kindness there anymore." After a fired bullet, in order to wound the squatting figure, this time the bullet didn't pierce the serial killer. He straightened his spine after crouching past the dead bodies after gawking them maliciously, complacently how they're dying in front of the barkeeper. "If you're thinking twice to step in this bar, just forget about it and the police will be after you, scum!" Without thinking twice and dithering, luster blood was dripping the butcher knife, mapping its tracks after Cayden walked away from the façade, aiming to the exit. His silence was a baleful, unspeakable language for the bartender.

"Excuse me, sir?" All of a sudden, Lydia's revolver clicked after reloading the bullets, directing to the serial killer's strait trancing the hallway of the bar, linking with the front door and the entrance. The smugness was mopped from the older man's parchment, scabby complexion. Berry-coloured tongue cocksurely licked her cherub lips, her forefinger hesitantly tipping the trigger. "What is that satisfaction on your face?" Suddenly Cayden froze on place, gnawing on his lower lip. Gawking glassily, sinisterly at the homosexual. "Do you think you will get any longer away with murder?"

"How do you think, dyke? Five people from yours are already dead by this butcher knife," At the moment, Cayden denoted the gore on the edge of the butcher knife's luxurious pungnent blood, dribbling unevenly. "After trying to arrest me and the bastard bartender wounded my forearm before the cops to bite the dust." Hissing through his stoic facial features after lowering the whimper's decibels, squinting at Lydia's honey brown embers with ignited sheer contempt, the ginger didn't budge in apprehension, arching her eyebrow. "Don't you want to make company in hell or heaven with them? Partnering up in the collection of blood for my artworks and painting something with that delicious blood of yours." With a cough, the middle-aged man cleared gruffily his throat until Lydia pressed the gun's trigger, wounding his knee after lowering it slyly to slow down his pace. Then Cayden opted to escape the lesbian's claws, lurching up to one of the parked taxis on the opposite sidewalk without turning his back. The heart rate increased unrealistically and adrenaline pumping into his veins with erupting volcano's lava from its ingress.

"Don't you dare to run away from me, scum! Your place isn't at home sweet home, nor anywhere else than jail." The sharp hissing of emphasis lingered on the younger lady's tongue, attempting to shoot successfully Cayden though his agility, fleeing sluggishly, hardly increasing the pace. Meantime, Lydia scooted up to Cayden until he kicked her backward in the crotch with great force, stunning the policewoman by grappling herself for her labia, stoicness twisted across her bronze-tanned, smooth complexion. Beehive of bullets, shattered on the ground, remarkable sequence of the missed target's patent legerity stipulated. "You won't get away with that, Cayden! I promise you will pay dearly for your criminal deeds by not seeing the light ever again." In the meanwhile, her knees were weakening, ebbing out from physical vitality until she was sitting on her own knees on the snow carpet, trying to push the trigger with the tip of her forefinger until the click, keeping her wits about being out of ammo. "Good for me! The FBI manager won't keep my nose clean for not catching him." Murmur slipped from her mouth until the middle-aged man was out of sight. His silhouette wasn't mirrored on the snowy ground.

Within a half an hour later after escaping the bar without Cayden leaving traces of his heinous identity over her small frame, she got at the two-story mansion with a stormy slam of the front door, kicking off her boots in a jiffy and stripping off from her frail skeleton the winter coat and hanging it on the polished coat hanger, while Edward Ralph was scooped in the warm, secure embrace of his father's strong, muscly arms after zinging away from the living room after spending time with Stephen and Edward to give them a great deal of affection and attention. Meanwhile, the foster kitten was asleep on the couch sofa after spending series of hours sauntering in discovering the unknown corners of the first floor's rooms and earning abundance of tender strokes all over his skinny body.

Benevolently soft smile decorated the former man of the cloth's mouth as he bounced up the infant, whereas a girlish pout parted the older woman's lips.

"Hi, rare bird!" The velvetness of his British lilt was heed, although his heart sunk noting the blonde's despondent humor, overtaking her.

"Mama!" The infant babbled and cooed jubilantly, inserting a thumb in his gummy mouth. Huge round hazelish-brown pools followed every move of Jude after hopping up in comfy, fuzzy slippers.

"You okay?" The silence was upsetting and speaking volumes to the British compatriot, escorting the blonde after towering the stairs for the second floor, following her silently, meekly. "Jude!" His attempts to attract her attention and her northern lilt to break the ice were an incredulous fiasco, upsetting even more the British compatriot.

"I need some rest. This can't last forever." After dumping askew opened the bedroom door, she scooted up to the wardrobe to retrieve a clean, unused towel and hop up in the shower within less than a minute after tying up her long gilt wavy hair in a casual high messy bun.

"I don't understand what's going on and your spirits are far cry from the happy, radiant woman I saw you this morning before going on work." Once the entire family was gathered in the sufficiently expansive bedroom, the absent-minded, quiet cooes and babbles of the little boy were oblivious for Jude, who didn't have any intentions to interact with anybody unless her spirits rested peacefully and altered her humor in the positive direction. "I'm totally okay if you don't want to talk about it right away but your silence is bothering me."

"He's back again." All of a sudden, the Bostonian after opening the en-suite bathroom's door, she stumbled unintentionally on the doorframe, overwhelmed with everything that took its place in the bar and sequencing her unintentional flump, spooting on the carpeted flooring of the bedroom.

"Rare bird, are you alright? Are you hurt?" In the interim, the British compatriot crouched down past his girlfriend, offering her a hand to get up from the floor. Mirth petered out his facial features.

"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all." Meanwhile, the Bostonian took Timothy's outstretched hand, consequently getting from the ground effortlessly. "Just everything today for me is coming a bit too much."

"I hope you're fine. And what exactly bothers you, if you don't mind to tell me?" Squinting up her caramel brown eyes at his with despondence and overwhelmness, flaming the embers like coals. Uncertainity embellished Edward Ralph's babyish facial features, suckling on his thumb idly. The paradnoid, vivid memories of the notorious serial killer clouded her thoughts and prostrating her sanity and concentration. The attempted rape, the sugarcoated lies and manipulatios, weighed on a separate scale, compared to the gentlemanly behavior and hospitability of Cayden, subsequently leading to the results of the prevailed first scale, evincing the genuine notion of the infamous serial killer's sequence of his actions, impacting the former pious sister of the church.

"T-That bastard, who tried to rape me." What the crystal, fresh memories of Timothy bubbled up were the person that the former licentious jazz nightclub singer was talking about. Crystalline, fat twin tears welled in her honey brown irises. Lapis lazuli rivulet leaking on her lower eyelids, dribbling downward and staining her facial skin with sticky dew. Snivels whacked her, fresh snots escaping the beginnings of her nostrils until her face was buried in the crook of the younger man's broad shoulder. Crystal, translucent tears drenching his forest green sweater. "I saw him in the bar today after work as I finished earlier, having a drink by myself."

"D-Did he hurt you or something?" She shook her head, sniffling quietly, whilst her face was nestled on his shoulder for comfort until the middle-aged lady felt her middle rubbed, providing warmness and comfort. "It's okay. He isn't nearby. I will not let him getting his foul hands on you or anybody even on Maddie or Edward." Mewling a consoling shush in low voice tingled angelic hymns to Judy, suckling on her lower plump lip, whilst the infant cooed cheerfully, brightly contrasting his mother's despondency. "You're so strong and that's what astonishes me about you, Jude! My Jude!"

"So as we've to think of a way to put him in jail back again. There were cops in the bar to arrest him and I hope they took care of the business."

"I'm praying my heart out for the police finally to arrest him and not keep him wandering and enjoying his carte blanche." In the interval, the sniffles subdued in the background and momentarily breaking off the embrace, taking their time to admire one another's faces, daubing with the tad of his thumb the drying, last tears, adorning her cheek and retrieving a handkerchief from his jeans' pocket by handing it to his girlfriend to blow her nose. "Here! Blow your nose. I don't like spoting snots and tears decorating your gorgeousness!"

"Thanks!" After tugging the cotton handkerchief from Timothy's protracted hand by blowing her nose, the common fabric was muddied with brass fluid snots. She turned her back against the younger man without showing signs of disrespect and blatant attitude even informal indoors.

"Mama!"

"I know little cupcake! Mom is overwhelmed. I'm certain you will help her spirits to be kept high." After bouncing the young boy in his scooped embrace, Timothy heaved a light-heavy sigh, flushing his chest after the blatant slur of Edward sucking his own thumb appalled him. "No, no, no! That isn't the way to cheer up Mommy! And sucking your own thumb isn't healthy at all, sweetie! Bunch of germs will infect your body and I don't think it will be fine afterward." Pout creased upon the little boy's baby-pinkish lips. "It will be our fault even mine for not warning you earlier about the consequences. And you won't be the happy cupcake if it happens actually. Being sick and suffer physically."

"Ya!"

"I think I shall take a shower and get rid off the stress and pressure I've been through today."

"Go for it! Take a shower, rest well and I'll make something for eating like vegetarian soup and some tea! And of course, Edward will be with you while you're resting, okay?" Meanwhile, the former holy woman managed a nod, a vague smile flourishing on her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips. "Good! Take care of yourself and within less than an hour, you will eat." With a ginger, doting stroke, grazing the blonde's cheek by planting a peck on her cheek, they straightened their middles and Timothy walked away from the bedroom with their ray of sunshine up to his forthcoming destination. The kitchen. At the moment, the Bostonian set a foot in the en-suite bathroom by slamming and shutting the door with locking it up, tossing in the trash bin the snotty handkerchief. In less than a minute, her bare body was donned in nothing else than her own nudity. The garments and underwear were tossed in the basin with dirty, already worn garments. Her bath towel was hung on the hooks, clung to the door.

As soon as the middle-aged lady stepped inside the shower, pulling up the shower curtain to filter her presence in the bathroom, her leanly bare body stepped under the shower's tiled flooring. After the turning the faucet and adjusting the running jet water's temperature, initially, cool water showered her feet, stepping aside to test the jets real temperature. She wasn't a keen fan of taking cold showers during the frosty episodes of the season. In a half a minute later, the stream was sufficiently sweltering to refresh the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer and cleanse her vortex of thoughts from her own bids and negativism, situating in her daily life.

Melodious in low voice hum was scratching Judy's throat, clutching shut her eyelids and relishing the prominent moment of the shower head's luxurious jets splashing against her silky epidermis as a fresh start before lathering from her neck down to her feet and toes with lathering the jasmine soap on the clean lilac sponge. The hygiene mattered to the former nun and she kept it on high level even during her nunnery. The daily showers and washing her hair per a couple of days was crucially playing major role in her daily hectic schedule from the early mornings with recited in a mumble prayers up to bedtime after the dirty job was eventually done with canning a dozen of patients, bending down on her hardwood bureau and flinching at every whip, contacting their bare rears bloodily.

Whereas Jude was still under the shower and lathering her petite frame, at the moment the younger man was in the kitchen, chopping the carrots on small pieces on the chopping wooden board with a kitchen knife. Sheerly lily-white apron was clad to his tall figure, shielding his casual garments from muddying with anything while preparing the dinner nonetheless. The radio was lowly whirring in the background as a background noise and the young boy was on the kitchen floor, playing with his prominent teddy bear which he received for Christmas. The two-month old kitten was champing his own food in the cat bowl, bought from the pet store earlier today.

The saucepan was filled with water, pooling up to the rim of the saucepan with a fresh, pleasant mix of chooped onions, green peppers, potatoes and tomatoes on small pieces, boiling and seething up eventually on the hob.

"_In the late hours of the afternoon, five police officers were brutally murdered by the infamous serial killer Cayden Gray inside the bar Felicity and in front of the bartender's eyes. Moreover, it's confirmed by one of the police officers who was outside and tried to stop him by wounding his knee under the name Lydia Jane Morrison that he threatened her,_" Meantime, whilst the radio news' announcement tingled nonchalantly the information about the notorious serial killer's vicious slaughter of the cops in the bar, suddenly he attempted to chop the last span of carrot's length until impaling incidentally, surreptiously the tad of his thumb, blethering a quiet, stoic whimper, stopping in a halt with chopping the carrot and his coffee brown embers stung widened in panic, mustering with the consequence of his lacking attention, paid to chopping the orange vegetable. Bizarre sensation abruptly skimmed his charming, youthful facial features with the familiar face after acknowledging and recalling the name of the homosexual, who opted to molest even touch his girlfriend in the bar on St. Valentine's Day. Little did he know that a homosexual who'd be responsible for attempted rape and unconsesual touch on the former woman of the cloth is actually working for the law and serving the law even protecting the innocents from offenders. Notwithstanding the reality, he pondered deeply in his thoughts and considered that even a cop could be abolished from his own position whether for violating the law or his irresponsibility and ignorance towards the work's strict rules and ambience. "_But the only survived policewoman didn't give him a chance to be the next victim. Anyway here's Lydia's short commentary on the happened._" When the former holy man chopped cunningly an inch from the carrot length on tiny pieces and putting them with the boiling soup, he was rummaging one of the countertop's drawers, looking for a medical patch to swathe the tad of his thumb, heaving a heavy sigh after spending a several minutes in series of monotonously chopping sounds dancing and tingling dull tunes. "_I saw that tall, dangerous bad guy leaving smugly the bar as if he's already done with the dirty work and washing his hands of murdering the cops, who meant trouble for him. Blood was dribbling from his butcher knife even he showed it to me how much blood he's collected from the dirty work of his. I was sure it was him. Cayden Gray. He's pleased as punch. He thought he'd kill me and ending up like my co-workers._" After finding a medical patch in the middle drawer, throughout he bandaged the rough fabric around the tad of his thumb. Thin layer of blood stained his thumb underneath the medical patch. "_He was wrong. I was the one who shot him cleverly in the knee and I scared him so much that he limped, trying to escape and dodging the bullets I shot until I was out of ammo which pissed me off. At least, I tried to weaken him and slow down his pace until he kicked me in the crotch and I ended up on the snow, being on my knees as he was out of my sight. The kick was unarguably strong._"

"No! Just no." In the meantime, the British aristocrat unplugged the radio from the socket, the radio news' journalist voice petered out along with his interviewed special guest. Then he retrieved the dipper to stir the soup frequently.

"Andrea?" Harry emphasized his love interest's lovely name, whilst having his arm dangled around her shoulder as her head was dropped on his broad, leanly muscly shoulder, transfixing their glassy dark orbs on the television screen with the incessantly flickering pictures due to the malicious blizzard, plaguing Vermont's outskirts. The both birds in love were currently seating on the sofa, snuggling warmly as a cosy quilt blanketed their pelvis and below.

"H-Huh, yes?" Stammer limped in the back of the middle-aged lady's throat, biting her lip at his emphasis and pursuing for his amber brown irises, meeting her midnight black. "What's on your mind, Harry?"

"What are your hobbies?" The haphazard posed question about getting to know one another's process intimidated Andrea, factly, the partners haven't discussed about their hobbies and anything on personal level and the prostitute hasn't thought about her hobbies, taking part of her daily life especially during her leisure time. "What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Urm, I haven't thought about it!" The reluctant frequence in her delivered utterance dumbfounded the younger man, pressing a peck on her temple as he ran slowly, gingerly his long, pristinely clumsy fingers through her gilded tresses, admiring the crispy softness of her medium gilded mop of strands.

"Oh come on, dear! Everybody has their own hobbies and you're telling me that you haven't thought about it."A playful swat drummed the blonde's thigh. The hoarseness of their bashful, half-hearted giggles didn't fade away. "Reflect!" His fingers lingered on her thigh soothingly, cheeky grin decorating his lips.

Intesifying, unexplainable silence stretched between the both adults, whereas the frequency of the flickering television screen tingled soprano tunes. The prostitute took a deep, sharp breath, glancing back at every corner of the living room of her own property. Her girlishly coy instincts expostulated her tongue keep lingering inside her oral caverns, subsequently licking coyly her cherub, rosy-coloured lips.

The dim light yellow-bulb was filtering the room with artificial electric light, Andrea and Harry's silhouettes hair-risingly were reflected on the fern green-painted walls with vintage floral pattern texture, concealing the ugliness of the mere fern green nuance, bearing a semblance of sinisterly giant monsters' silhouettes, crawling under the little naïve children's beds and giving them nightmares each night, crying out loud from the top of their frail, childlike lungs their parents to console them in the quickest way before finding themselves the darkness and imaginary monsters consuming them.

"F-For example sewing and reading books in my spare time." Even when the impulse was flowing freely, river overflowing the barren area after the flood, Andrea pondered until her thoughts escaped their own comfort zone. "And cooking and baking stuff with my grandchildren even my son-in-law and teaching the little ones to cook and bake." She smiled complacently how her childrearing's beneficial manners were positively affecting Jack and Kathy's grow during their early childhood. Unlike Andrea's only daughter Cassandra, who was attempting to spare her own children from her own mother, it didn't impact negatively on their fragile identities at all. "Reading children's books to Jack and Kathy and playing with them."

"I'm pretty impressed by your hobbies, dear! I knew it you've somehow a tremendous talent in sewing clothes and being such a sweetheart to the children."

"Thanks! You know how special are the children to me even if they're my grandchildren," Unpredictable pause lingered on her tongue, vowels opting to reconstruct words, articulated exquisitely in the utterance, plumbing the utterance's quantity of sense that oozes of it. "They mean the world to me!"

"I'm sure they're such sweethearts like you." Blunt sincerity curled upon Harry's lips, lowering his ogle at the middle-aged woman, inhaling the refreshing fragrance of lilacs, lacing her stray, greasy curls.

"Aww, really? I'm actually particularly flattered by your words, Harry!" Her hand reached for his forearm, rubbing it lovingly with her slim, long as guitar stings' fingers. Her beaming smile wore a thousand patterns of genuine, bashful bliss. She hasn't expected her younger love interest to be as sincere as his goodwill. "But my time didn't sunset yet, I think! Tell me about your hobbies too."

"Drawing idiotic sketches of hilarious faces and writing in my own diary what I've been through today for example." His nostrils flushed a mere inhale, inhaling the lilac aroma, molting into the natural fragrances which weren't succumbing his nostrils and nerves.

"How dare you calling your own sketches idiotic?" Her lips parted in a scoff, raising an eyebrow at him puzzledly.

"I dunno. I bet they look wildly idiotic and bland, despite my effort-"

"Come on, honey! Chin up and you've to show me your sketches before judging the book by its cover, you know!" A friendly swat drummed on his bicep which didn't startle him at all. He saw it that coming. "I dislike it when you criticize yourself for something even when you don't know my opinion and how astonishing talent you've poured in its creation." The depth notion of her utterance boggled him. His lips unzipped in a pensive, rational purse, indicating his disbelief in the older woman's words, trying to persuade him to believe himself.

"W-What do you mean with this, Andrea? You truly mean it?" A minute later after their tongues barely crafted any vowal and syllable, suddenly the Ohion's lips popped up and marvelous twin of blush powdered his chubby, well-defined cheeks with a shy, modest smile, beamed at her. "But you saw nothing."

"No matter what, I'm trying my best to stay optimistic and not being way too optimistic and unrealistic in anything. The life is too short to complain and grief like a crybaby."

"I've to agree with you."

"Shh, don't tell me I didn't warn you, because you're a brilliantly smart, amazing man with one of a kind uniqueness in your talents and hobbies." All of a sudden, the prostitute unwrapped the quilt from her frail skeleton by hopping up in comfortable slippers, stroking gently his dark blonde hair, her fingers lingering the crispy, youthful scalp's softness. Contemplating his parchment, young-looking complexion with heavenly merriness, defining her facial muscles. "If you've to excuse me, I'll be right back with cans of beer for both of us."

"I'm not in the drinking at all."

"Excuse me?" Her midnight black irises widened in bewilderment, gnawing on her upper lip reluctantly. "Say it again!"

"I'm not a fan of alcohol."

"Beer is a weak alcoholic beverage. Let's not forget that beer is actually considered a fizzy drink in Russia!" Gamely winking, her gracious fingers drifted down to his jaw, cradling it dotingly, smoothly with the tad of her fingers. "I'm certain you will like the beer more than any other liquor, because it's weak and you said it right away that the drinking isn't your cup of tea." Furrowing her eyebrows playfully, whilst her tongue conjugated a husky, joyful snigger and still staring at the younger man. "Needless to reject my offer in every way before I changed my mind otherwise!"

"Preach! I'll give a try instead exhausting you with my stubbornness!" Meantime, the prostitute lifted up her rear from the couch and heading towards the kitchen, eavesdropping the utterance seconds before fleeing.

"You aren't exhausting me with your stubbornness, honey! You're just unfamiliar with it." After researching the refrigerator for beer cans, consequently she scooped Old Milwaukee cans with its chilly plastic armor, drenching Andrea's underarm. "Give a try and the experiments never hurt as much as never trying anything!" Afterwards she handed to Harry Old Milwaukee beer can, removing the taps within a handful of seconds once she seated alongside him and wrapping the quilt, swaddling her pelvis and below. "Mmmm! Just admit it has an awesome taste." Suddenly the younger man coughed after gulping series of tiny sips from the soar liquor, cooling the corners of his dry mouth.

"I-It's so good." Holding the eye contact, she could tell he didn't like savoring the weak alcoholic beverage.

"So good? By judging your face, I can tell that your opinion is quite controversial about the beer."

\- _An Hour Later_ -

An hour later after the dinner's preparation, the former ambitious Monsignor set in a tray a bowl of vegetarian soup with a glass of water and lugging it warily on his journey upstairs until he stepped inside the bedroom, noting his girlfriend playing with the infant's pudgy fingers and stroking lovingly his sparse, dark hair.

"Hi my favorites!" The British compatriot's wariness in lugging the tray, whilst approaching the nightstand on Jude's side instantly flourished a glowing smile, spread across his baby-pinkish, soft as satin lips. The merriness in his utterance earned promptly their ray of sunshine and his lover's attentions, darting their inquiring pools at him. "Here's the vegetarian soup as I promised with a glass of water!"

"Hey!" The suddenness of the radiant, jocund smile, flexing her jaw muscles extravagantly wore thousand patterns of radiance and her hazelish-brown eyes brightened by the family's assemble in a room, alight with pure happiness and childlike ecstasy. "Say hi to yar Daddy, sweetie!"

"Dada!" When Timothy seated on the edge of the king-sized bed, managing to reach his colossal, soothingly smooth hand's fingers for the infant's chubby, childish fingers, playing with them and admiring his son's ethereal grace, inheriting his parents' physical attributes as the young boy was nestled in his mother's scooped in protective, alabaster arms.

"How do you feel, Jude?" Then he bended down, pursuing for Judy's roseate lips, capturing them in a soft kiss shortly before retrieving a glass of fresh, lukewarm water to sip humbly. "Are you feeling much better?"

"Mhm!" Slim, dexterous fingers curled around the frail glass's material while heaving the glass from the tray and brought it to her mouth, grazing and liquid hydrating her throat and organs, Timothy's fingers lingered on his ray of sunshine's. "I do." Then Jude left the glass of lukewarm water in the tray.

"Excellent! But Edward has such cute, pudgy fingers."

"He does. He has just perfect fingers like yars, Timothy!" Meanwhile, raspy, half-hearted snicker clicked the roof of the blonde's mouth, handing the baby to his boyfriend. "I shall eat in a jiff and ya can spend some time with this sweetheart."

"Most certainly!" A soon as the baby was scooped in his father's secure, muscular arms, swaying and rocking him carefully, fondly. "Bon appétit! And I hope you like the soup, my rare bird! I did it with a big love for you." What the former holy man couldn't suppress was a childlike, husky chuckle, clicking emphatically, headstrongly her tongue after grabbing a silverware spoon, dipped in the vegetarian soup and the bowl, occupying hecticly her both elvish hands and zapping her palm and fingers with the meal's balmy temperature.

"Thanks! Now also Edward is yars." After scooping a couple of veggies and broth liquid, pooling her spoon and bringing it to her pink mouth, slurping blatantly satisfied and masticating her first bite after Timothy cleared his throat.

"Aww, look at you, tiny bee!" At the moment, the former priest was playing with his son's tiny, brittle hands, tickling his chubby fingers with his fingertips like pressing piano keys incessantly and reproducing a piano tune. His chocolate brown embers were lowered in a fixated gaze at the little boy, harking satisfied slurps of vegetarian soup and cheerful cooes and babbles. "When you're already one year old and it's Halloween, you will be dressed up as a bee. You're going to be your Daddy and Mommy's bee." Huge, round hazelish-brown pools, sheening pure innocence and sheer, unconditional love, ablaze at the younger man's affection were transfixed on him.

"Dada!"

"That's right!"

Within a couple of spooned bites of the healthy soup with its scrumptious aroma, wafting across the former promiscuous nightclub singer's flexible nostrils, she glimpsed back at her boyfriend, noting a medical patch binding the tad of his thumb with dried blood. She left the silverware, already used spoon in the bowl of vegetarian soup, scratching thoughtfully the top of her head with her medium-sized, manicured in ravishing red with slight spots of peeled off nail polish, mapping her fingernails, factly, she hasn't took care of her manicure for a few days. Her heart rate increased starry-eyedly, spine-chillingly and opulent of questions swirling and twirling in her whirlpool of thoughts. Did he cut himself accidentally while preparing the dinner? Was it unintentional actually? Or on the contrary, something gnawed him? What was the symptom of the incident?

"Don't you like the vegetarian soup?"

"I love it." Her blunt confession left her throat, gutturally, sarcastically snickering as the former clergyman was playing with his own son's hands. "But what happened to yar thumb? Did ya cut yourself by an accident?"

"I cut it while chopping the carrots for the soup. It was meant to be an incident." In the meanwhile, the middle-aged woman took a deep breath, shortly before resuming with masticating from her meal. Reassuringly optimistic grin glowed across his berry-coloured lips.

"Ah! What happened to the cops? Did they arrest him?"

"Who? Cayden?" Meantime, the blonde managed a nod, flexing continuously her jaw line, whilst swallowing series of spooned vegetables and liquid. "Urm, I'm afraid to say what exactly happened, according to the radio news, but the five cops who tried to arrest him are already dead and he got away somehow with another murder. But one of the cops survived only and wounded his knee as he limped as she scared him."

"Good for that police officer, but it's such a shame he isn't arrested!"

"Because that policewoman was actually kicked in the crotch so that to wash his hands of his business!"

"Dammit! She should have tried to shot him multiple times instead whining like a little bitch." The Bostonian's soup-greased, rosy-coloured lips were curled in a pout, inclining her upper lip downward after glimpsing back at her favorite boys.

"Jude! No profanity!" The Bostonian snatched the glass of water again, gulping a handful of tiny, humble sips, hydrating her organs and the corners of her mouth, thereafter dumping it in the tray, rolling dramatically, furiously her eyes at the thought of the policewoman's irresponsibility to arrest an infamous offender. "She's trying her best to do her own job and when she tried to shot him multiple times, he dodged the bullets and subsequently she's out of ammo!" Thus, the British compatriot's pristinely delicate fingers managed to reach for Edward Ralph's chestnut, crispy soft hair, admiring its fresh softness and growth through the elapsing days and weeks and months.

"Good for her! She is supposed to keep doing her own job, but what it jives me more than anything is that he's roaming freely like if the entire world belongs to him." All of a sudden, the vivid memories of Jude's maniacal, hysterical burst out laughters, emanating from upstairs as fresh tempest of memories submerged his shallow mind and swimming through them, admonishing the former priest shifted his attention to his girlfriend, quirk crinkling his dark, fluffy eyebrows. "For heaven sake, what's that facial expression on yar face, darling?"

"I'm scared for you." An incredulous, baffled smirk softened her face after finishing with her meal and settling the emptied bowl with the spoon back in the tray. "I heard you screaming and laughing hysterically while I was doing the dinner."

"It's just a-" Suddenly the British compatriot cut her off curtly, strictness painted his handsome facial features with somber nuances, darkening his coffee brown eyes.

"If you think you can fool me, tell me what's bothering you! Every concern about you is highly affecting me and concerns me." Sternity punctured his velvety, British lilt, whereas the blonde managed to gnaw on her lower lip speechlessly.

"It's about the happened in the bar with Cayden."

"I perfectly understand you sometimes to let it out your adrenaline but that's not funny." In the interim, the younger man emitted a sharp exhale, earning promptly Jude's attention and utter focus on his reprimand. "He murdered five cops in the failed attempt to arrest him again. I'm still wondering how did you escape the bar."

"It was a child's play, honey! I used the ladies' restroom window to escape though I convinced the lady at first, who was with me to sprint through the police and Cayden without turning our backs." A dissatisfied growl scratched her throat, considering the events taking its place in the bar planted a brood of nausea in the pit of her stomach, amalgamating with the consumed soup and hydration. "She thought it wasn't a good idea to escape the ladies' restroom even when the police were dealing with him. She was thinking that he could change his mind and hurt us even in our nimbleness." Her front ivory, still firm for her age teeth nipped the delicate, roseate skin of her upper lip, eyeing the British aristocrat as in the silence solely Edward's jubilant, optimistic cooes and babbles were audible for the parents. "She was the first one climbing the bathroom's window and we just escaped."

"I think that's another good way to avoid the danger."

\- _Flashback _-

\- _An Hour Ago_ -

_"__My bills are all due and the baby needs shoes and I'm busted__! __Cotton is down to a quarter a pound, but I'm busted__! __I got a cow that went dry and a hen that won't lay__! __A big stack of bills that gets bigger each day__! __The county's gonna haul my belongings away cause I'm busted.__" Ray Charles' song Busted was recently playing on the radio, whereas the jubilant cooes and babbles of the young baby swam, interweaving with the charcoal black kitten's joyous mewles, the recurring chopping knife, grazing seldom the chopping wooden board._

_Generous layer of clamminess coated the former holy man's palm, grasping attentively the kitchen knife, in order to not slit or harm himself unintentionally._

_In the meantime, the infant was playing with his teddy bear and the cashmere fabriced stuffed animal was nestled in his pudgy arms. Stephen was rubbing dotingly, delicately his fluffy head against his shuffled shoed feet in slippers, aspiringly matching with his clothing._

_All of a sudden, familiar feminine with Boston lilt accented the shrilling, uncontrollably reckless hysterical screams and burst out laughters, emanating from upstairs._

_What the British compatriot thought was Judy was mused recurringly in the depths of her blizzard of thoughts and the punchline of the joke she's perfectly recalling spontaneously bubbled up in her mind, couldn't resist the urge to laugh her head off. Or something else was the symptom of her recalcitrant chortles and screams. Little did Timothy know what might be the core of her derangement. What he hoped for was that something wrong hasn't happened to her and it's just a temporal delirium or a state of sentiment._

_"Mama!" Suddenly the love child of the former devotional members of the clergy mewled his mother's nickname, peculiarly recognizing her hysterical guffaws._

_"I think you're right, my cupcake! We shall check what's going on upstairs." Then the British aristocrat left the kitchen knife the chopping wooden board and turned to his son, scooting up to him by lifting him from the tiled flooring emphatically, patting his back after his pudgy, elvish arms were hooked around his father's nape of his delicate neck. "And I'm quite worried for your Mommy, you know!" Once Timothy walked away from the kitchen and heading towards the hardwood stairway, towering them within a split second, Stephen escorted the both males. He didn't have any intentions to stay in the kitchen on his own and ongoingly boiling saucepan with unfinished vegetarian soup. His skinny, fluffy tail waggled agitatedly, mewling behind his foster owner._

_The truth was eventually that Stephen quickly became fond of the both former members of the church and cherishing the shelter, food, company and cares they've given to him with every ounce, sugarcoated with pure love and tenderness, consequently flipped on the other parallel side with more potent side of love, warmness and tenderness. Moreover, despite the circumstances of Judy having initial disagreements with her lover over keeping for longer the foster kitten until they found somebody else to look after him for the rest of the pet's days, anyway something impelled her to keep the pet for longer shortly after adopting him and rescuing him from the unabating, hypothermic mid-February weather, weathering and frostbiting its own preys, freezing to death and finding their own deaths whether young or old nowhere else than on the snow._

_"Judy? Rare bird?" When the former pious man of the cloth stepped beside the bedroom's askew opened door, his only free hand fashioned in a balled fist, rapping on the door a couple of times, keeping her wits about his presence. "Come on! Is everything alright?" No rational response was followed after his emphasized utterance, his lips parted in a frustrated pout, heavy sigh escaping his brittle lungs. The sole reply which was illogical answer to his worries was her maniacal, louder burst out laughter, thicker invincible waves colliding in the walls. "Do not make me peep over the gap!" He bounced his own son, glancing at him and noticing the infant suckling on his thumb absent-mindedly, blankly. Afterwards his attention was shifted to the askew opened door, bending to peep and the corner of his stark eye was embraced with an empty bedroom and the shut bathroom door._

\- _End of Flashback_ -

\- _A Few Hours Later or So_ -

When Edward was swaddled after being fed and bathed with changed outfit especially pyjamas and laid down to kip in his own crib, thereafter the couple were getting ready for bedtime by changing themselves from casual into comfy pajamas and hopping up in the king-sized bed snuggling, bundled beneath the convenient quilt, swaddling their frail skeletons.

Further, the stray kitten was fed, bathed and sleeping in its own house, located in the couple's bedroom.

The silence whistled its own song in the middle of the night. The room sunk in pitch black darkness, invincible to be commutted with brighter, more vibrant color. The mid-February's ballad was whizzing outside with the inevitable blizzard, assaulting Vermont's outskirts.

Suddenly the retro phone was ringing in the hallway, waking up the younger man from his beauty coma by unwrapping the quilt, muffling with a palm his yawn and sitting on the edge of the bed, partly blinking his groggy eyelids and hopping up in his own slippers and stroking gently, lovingly her disheveled lion mane of silky old Hollywood golden tresses, ruffled on her cotton pillow. The constant phone ringing tune overspread wider waves in the overall corners of the corridor.

"I'll take care of the business, rara avis!" Throughout his fingers slipped down featherly to her cheekbone, tracing it delicately and admiring her ethereal grace with a last glance before tiptoeing up to the door and fleeing the bedroom, chewing on his lower baby-pinkish lip.

Once the British compatriot was relieved that the Bostonian hasn't come to her senses yet and escaping successfully the bedroom, he snatched the earpiece from the vibrating phone, clinging the midnight black earpiece to his ear.

"Timothy, it's a relief to speak to you!" What it flabbergasted the former clergyman was that Madeleine was incessantly ringing to him and he lastly accepted the phone call. Her Michigan lilt sounded clearly strong, accentuating her exclaimation.

"Maddie, what's going on? Aren't you supposed to be asleep for the next day at work?" Meanwhile, his berry-coloured lips seized in a purse, taking a deep breath and wondering how the Michiganian was still awake shortly after midnight even having intentions of disturbing the couple in the middle of the night, unacknowledging them her intentions.

"I can't sleep and that's the problem, Tim!" The young woman propped her forehead with a hand, nibbling on her lower roseate, plump lip with her front ivory teeth, gawking at her own shuffled feet, whilst seating on the couch in the living room and the earpiece of the teal retro phone clung to her petite ear. Her older brother Roman was already asleep and fortunately, not questioning his own younger sister's insomnia.

"Why? Did you lose somebody significant from your family or something else?"

"No, no, no! It still haunts me after reading it and overthinking it." Crystal, chubby twin tears rimmed the young lady's restless, blinking hazelish-brown orbs. Lapus lazuli rivulets arraying her lower eyelids, snots decorating her nostrils and drizzling downward her sensitive, button nose, daubing with her solely free hand's tads of her fingers the drizzle, staining her face.

"A newspaper article?"

"Bullshit! Judy's journal on thirteenth page." All of a sudden, Timothy gnawed on his tongue tip unintentionally and dumbfoundness contouring his charming facial features. A shadow was casted on his porcelain, still young-looking complexion. Little did he know that his girlfriend had a journal and most of all scribbling down notes about her daily life and what it struck her first, besides pouring her entire pain, sorrow, happiness and wrath in jotted down notes. The British aristocrat's heart rate increased rapidly, rabid heart beats throbbing vehemently into his ribcage with megawatt intensity.

"What about it, Maddie? Please, don't cry!"

"I cannot. As a friend of hers and co-worker, you know, her life costs infinite price for me and whether if it's me or you, it still concerns me her life and anything that worries her." The impulsive blubber whacked the Michiganian, ducking her head lower, sluggishly swallowing the lump in her throat.

"I know! Just calm down! Swallow these tears and tell me normally what she's written on thirteenth page!"

"It's too painful and she isn't supposed to know it, because she's written these notes just before I met her and she will definitely screw both of us!" At the moment, Madeleine tucked a fistful unruly honey strands behind her elvish ear with her quivering fingers, incapable of putting a finger on her thoughts in the trance of recalling the words, poured in Jude's ellegic paragraphs, written on thirteenth page of her personal journal. "They're pretty suicidal and explicit for reading."

"Hold on a second," After clearing with a cough his throat, subsequently Timothy glimpsed at every corner of the hall, in case, if Jude comes to her senses and decides to go on a journey up to the kitchen for a glass of water or check on Edward. Temporal relief sedated his muscles and bones even his cells. "You want to tell me that she used to be suicidal?"

"Exactly! Check it for yourself. Good night!" Suddenly the phone cut off as the former priest adjusted the earpiece back to the phone, thus heading towards the library, leaving ajar the door, due to the fact nobody was awake to sneak inside except him. The British aristocrat approached one of the bookshelves, fiddling the book covers which diversed as thick and thin even leather ones until his virginal, stubborn fingers tipped something different than the waterfall of books, collectioned on the bookshelf. As soon as he yanked it gingerly, thereafter the journal's first page was opened to the introduction page, written with the former sleazy nightclub singer's outstanding manuscript.

_The personal journal of_

_Judy Martin and her life_

After scrolling through the pages, suddenly his chocolate brown jewels landed on thirteenth page as Madeleine cautioned him to check until his vision scanned the text, dedicating his time to peruse it.

_15th of November, 1965_

_Nobody is supposed to read it. Nobody!_

_It has been almost two months since I'm out of this hellhole, where I was a nun, a patient and became a mother for first time. Miracles and nightmares haunted this place. It's true._

_But what is actually the purpose of the life? The nightmares still haunt me. I've the strong feeling that they're still appearing in my vision, whether asleep, drifted in a completely different realm or on the contrary, when I'm fighting with the reality from daylight up to night time until I fall asleep._

_I don't know if I'm able to trust Timothy even forgive him. He gave me everything. Home, food and everything even helping me to give a birth when nobody was around even a doctor with rich medical knowledge and experience._

_Timothy is going to be much better without me, raising on his own Edward. I'm just a horrible mother or at least I feel like a monster. Sometimes I scoff at Edward, but I can't blame him. He's a baby._

_I'm a heartbreaker. I'm just a broken lunatic, who deserves nothing. Briarcliff should had been my morgue and grant me the enternity to reunite with the wretched souls or whoever they're in heaven or purgatory, to apologize from heaven or the purgatory to Timothy for wasting weeks._

_I've sometimes wondered what it feels like to be dead. To be peaceful forever. To not move a single muscle and bone. To not hear the people's mourning. To feel the spiritual immortality._

_Just I'm wondering yet f I'm still loved. I feel lost without God and without family. Nobody gives a damn about me. I feel nothing._

_Timothy is way much better parent than me in parenting own son._

_I'm just…_

Once a few minutes passed after reading the suicidal paragraphs from her creation, afterwards the journal incidently was dropped vertically, afterward hitting his shoed in slipper feet, fresh and translucent tears blooming on his eyelids, swallowing hard after discovering Jude's personal journal and most of all, the suicidal paragraphs which Madeleine informed him.

Even when they weren't together as a couple yet, Timothy has always deemed his own rara avis as a mother role in parenting and distress discolored his complexion. His heart sunk after perusing each word, each sentence, each paragraph with great deal of enthusiasm.

Author's Note: What is going to happen after Jude discovers that Timothy has found her journal and read 13th page with her suicidal paragraphs? Will it affect not only their relationship, moreover Jude's friendship with Madeleine? What will happen with Harry and Andrea's relationship? What do you think about the first scene with the italic written paragraphs? Is it some kind of a foreshadowing a future event that might happen within a few chapters?


	22. Cloak-And-Dagger Upshot

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"I don't have time for games, Judy! Open the door!"_

_"Sir, you're nothing than an embarrassment and troublemaker! The police will be here within a few minutes after I phone them."_

_"Rare bird, are you alright? Are you hurt?"_

_"I'm fine. It doesn't hurt at all. Just everything today for me is coming a bit too much."_

"_In the late hours of the afternoon, five police officers were brutally murdered by the infamous serial killer Cayden Gray inside the bar Felicity and in front of the bartender's eyes. Moreover, it's confirmed by one of the police officers who was outside and tried to stop him by wounding his knee under the name Lydia Jane Morrison that he threatened her, b__ut the only survived policewoman didn't give him a chance to be the next victim. Anyway here's Lydia's short commentary on the happened. __I saw that tall, dangerous bad guy leaving smugly the bar as if he's already done with the dirty work and washing his hands of murdering the cops, who meant trouble for him. Blood was dribbling from his butcher knife even he showed it to me how much blood he's collected from the dirty work of his. I was sure it was him. Cayden Gray. He's pleased as punch. He thought he'd kill me and ending up like my co-workers. __He was wrong. I was the one who shot him cleverly in the knee and I scared him so much that he limped, trying to escape and dodging the bullets I shot until I was out of ammo which pissed me off. At least, I tried to weaken him and slow down his pace until he kicked me in the crotch and I ended up on the snow, being on my knees as he was out of my sight. The kick was unarguably strong._"

_"No! Just no."_

_"I'm pretty impressed by your hobbies, dear! I knew it you've somehow a tremendous talent in sewing clothes and being such a sweetheart to the children."_

_"Thanks! You know how special are the children to me even if they're my grandchildren, they mean the world to me!"_

_"Good for that police officer, but it's such a shame he isn't arrested!" _

_"Because that policewoman was actually kicked in the crotch so that to wash his hands of his business!"_

_"_ _My bills are all due and the baby needs shoes and I'm busted_ _! __Cotton is down to a quarter a pound, but I'm busted_ _! __I got a cow that went dry and a hen that won't lay_ _! __A big stack of bills that gets bigger each day_ _! __The county's gonna haul my belongings away cause I'm busted.__"_

_"Mama!" _

_"Why? Did you lose somebody significant from your family or something else?"_

_"No, no, no! It still haunts me after reading it and overthinking it."_

"Good for me!" The Michiganian's hysterical sniffle ramped a tempest of wider, despondent waves, colliding in the living room's walls, propping her forehead on her hand after ending the phone conversation with the former ambitious Monsignor. Crystalline chubby twin tears trickled on her cheeks, heavy rain of despondency poured on her youthful, porcelain complexion, shadowed by the partly dark room. Her frail heart flimsily sunk in the mist, profound ocean of her melancholy. "Now, I and Timothy are already dead! Judy will fucking kill me for letting him to know her little secret and hobby for describing her own thoughts and emotions in a journal even suicidal." The earpiece was stilling grasped in her hand, fingers curled circa the gadget, whereas unpropping her forehead and daubing the river of crystal tears with the pad of her finger, sniffeling. Her heart was aching yet at the gut-wrenching thirteenth page's paragraphs and the suicidal vibes, highlighting the negativism of the former nun towards herself. The physical and mental ounce, burdening her train of thoughts and shoulders with extra weight of delusional charlatan facts about her and poured in paragraphs of self-hatred and self-criticism.

All of a sudden, the blonde was caught off guard, muting her uncontrollable sobs, readjusting the earpiece back to the phone, gulping hard the bittersweet lump, bubbling up in her throat at the uneven background noise of masculine, familiar footsteps approaching the living room, whereas silently echoing in the hall. In the interval, the young lady lifted up her gaze from the floor up to the askew opened door. A mammoth, veiny hand clawed the askew opened door, swinging it widely opened and Madeleine was embraced by her recently awake older brother in comfy pyjama-clad muscles, gnawing on her lower plumpish lip disquietly.

"Maddie, what on earth is going on?" At the moment, the young man scooted up to his younger sister, seating alongside her and dangling a strong, muscular arm around her middle, supporting her back, whilst reclining altogether on the cozy couch and pressing a platonically affectionate, feather peck on the top of her head, his pale lips grazing her golden, crispy soft scalp. Meeting her woeful stare, her hazelish-brown irises spoke galore of emotions, controversial to the sheer happiness and genuine satisfaction, Madeleine was finely reluctant to avert her stare from Roman, in fact, their parents have always taught their heirs of the impending generation to flicker up their eyes with the person they're currently conversating, regardless if it's their worst foe or their closest friend. "Shh, shh, you'll be good!" The drastic lowered voice, accented his Michigan lilt was soothingly tingling angelic anthems to the blonde, molting in snuggle, tossing back her head on the sofa's backrest, swaddling in soft, benign comfort and sedating her bones and muscles from mobility. Suddenly the young woman snaked her both alabaster, pajama-clad arms around his shoulders, clinging her petite-frame to him, burying her face in the crook of his arm. "Maddie, you can tell me anything! I'm your older brother and I'm the sole man that can hear your pain and roar." The fingers, grasping the linen shirt's pyjama frail fabric were stubbornly rumpling and steadily clenching the fabric with long, slim as flute stings fingers.

"It's not about me, Roman," Crystalline, sticky tears drenched Roman's earlobe and the nape of his delicate, alabaster neck,dew glistening and dancing in the corner of her frequently blinking jewels, fertiziling tears her vision. "But it's about my friend and I told her boyfriend about her secret journal, where she wrote a couple of suicidal, ridiculous paragraphs which have nothing to do with what kind of a person she's except sometimes she's sometimes angry with Edward for when he doesn't have his regular breastmilk." Delighting soaks spiked the older man's shoulder, stimulating his sensitive epidermis beneath the lapis linen pyjama shirt. It has been awhile since the young man has seen his younger sibling despondent and folded by self in tears, consoling self in the heavy rain, poured her overall porcelain, youthful complexion and the liberty of tears delightingly staining her facial attributes with her black sorrow, gray pain and pale heartache and vivid memories.

"You've every right with Timothy to care about Jude and her condition even noting the hints of her suicidal humor." With a heavy sigh, fresh, burdening oxygen coursed through the young man's fragile lungs, vague smile flourished on his lips, optimism and pragmatism cusping and feuding. "As a friend of hers or Timothy as the closest person who's next to her, in fact, they live together some stuff which may be personal mustn't be as personal as to keep it for herself solely. For example, her current emotions and feelings even hints of suicidal thoughts and intentions even if they're poems being written or readen," In the meanwhile, the Michiganian daubed with her delicate fingertips the last, drying tears and withdrawing her face from the crook of Roman's arm. "If I was you or Timothy and found out about this journal with these suicidal thoughts, poured in a few paragraphs or words at least, of course, I'd rise the topic in front of her what's wrong and hopefully she spills the tea about her pain!"

"But it was written like months ago this stuff. Just a month before to meet each other."

"Even better! No matter if it's a few years ago or today, it will still arouse my interest what prompt gave her to write it to prevent the suicide!" Meantime, Roman rubbed his sister's back encouragingly, lovingly and ushering her to get from the couch, consequently lifting up their rears from the couch and guiding her slowly and steadily up to the kitchen. Still, Madeleine meekly, humbly followed her older brother's instructions up to the kitchen without questioning blandly, bluntly. "It will cease from existence the suicidal thoughts or the suicide which once burdened her after a sober, long discussion with a trusted person from her inner circle, psychologist or somebody else who can help her."

"I know! That's what I'm trying to do for Jude's good and preventing the suicide she may have thought and plotted for months, however, I'll never forget the day I found her journal somewhere in their house," When the both young adults already set a foot inside the kitchen as Roman was sitting on the kitchen table unlike the blonde, lingering on the countertop with a retrieved empty glass and filling it with fresh, lukewarm water, pooling her glass and sitting alongside her older brother. "It was the night when she was on a first date with that psychopath and Timothy was instructing you about their son!" The vividness of the young lady's memories refreshed her whirlpool of thoughts after sipping in a tiny gulp from her glass of liquid, hydrating the corners of her mouth, organs and throat.

\- _Flashback_ -

\- _4th of February, 1966 _-

_"Edward only cries and fusses whenever he doesn't receive his regular breastmilk per a few hours at least or he needs some attention and affection." Femininely docile, subtle footsteps echoed on their way to flee the children's room which was oblivious for the both gentlemen, whereas the seriousness and nonchalant sternity, puncturing the former pious man of the cloth's behest, lingering on his tongue and standing beside the crib. "He's a specific baby. He doesn't trust easily strangers and he's quite bashful around them, you know! Except for Maddie when Jude and your sister met for first time." Meanwhile, wicked, mischievous chuckle clicked the roof of the young woman's mouth after tiptoeing out of the both men's sight and sneaking up to the former members of the clergy's bedroom, pursing her roseate, cherub lips pensively. Her hazelish-brown jewels glanced back behind her back per a couple of seconds, making sure either Timothy or Roman haven't fled the children's room and acknowledged her absence._

_Once the flower store saleswoman's trembling petite, smooth hand lowered to the doorknob and docilely, hushingly swinging opening the door in no time, her lips popped up after entering in the both former devotional members of the church's bedroom and shutting the door behind her, ambling up to the former nun's nightstand drawers._

_"It's show time." Emphasizing the whisper, she cleared her throat as the Michiganian squatted past the nightstand, opening one of the drawers and rummaging until something larger, solider was teasing the pads of her fingers at last and snatching the personal jounal of the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer promptly, opening its leather cover without averting her stare. Gulping the soar lump in her throat with struggle, her honey brown jewels scanned the first pag, blinking restlessly. Moreover, the young lady's sixth sense what Judy would obscure as secrets and unshared thoughts, emotions and feelings in a dynamic roller coaster of felicity, ire, sorrow, irritation, calmness and serenity ignited her childlike pryingness in her embers, ashy coals illuminating her adrenaline to discover what was her friend's hobby in writing and pouring her entire imagination and heart in whether poems or paragraphs, illustrating her lifestyle and the every day episode. An eerie flat line itchily thrived upon her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips and sensing the surprises awaiting her shortly after scrolling through flipping the pages from the first up to her recent progress._

_**The personal journal of**_

_**Judy Martin and her life**_

_After her delicate, dainty fingers caressed the first shoddy page of her friend's journal, thus her fingers maneuvered to flip the forward page, scrolling through the first pages and realizing the paragraphs were perfectly normal. Further, some of the pages were clearly blank with no text, mapping the entire or partly its sheet of paper._

_For example the fourth and eighth page attracted candidly the young lady's attention, her attention focused utterly on the personal journal of the former devotional woman of the cloth._

**_31st of October, 1965_**

**_First Halloween as a platonic family_**

**_Well, Edward has already grown with a month more since his birth! But also a week and a couple of days added to his first month anniversary after emerging in this crudely cold world._**

**_Today was Halloween! Abundance of superstitions about this day as much as Friday Thirteenth. Even though the nightmares were still haunting me, I was dressed up as the angel of death for Halloween, while Timothy was dressed up as pilgrim unlike our son who was actually a bee. A fricking bee!_**

**_In spite of we had somewhat disagreements, of course, it didn't ruin our Halloween at all! We decided to trick or treat by passing a several houses on our way to our small Halloween journey around Vermont's countryside. The majority of the people who gave us candies and variety of sweets were spectacularly friendly and open-minded even we had small talks with some of these that loved to chat even with strangers unproblematically._**

**_Halloween hasn't been my favorite season holidays, in fact, the majority of the kids were tickled pink to dress up as spooky supernatural creatures or some classy horror movie psychos, giving to the strangers creeps. However, I'll never forget this Halloween even though we weren't couple with Timothy at all and the people still thought the angel of death was dating even being married to the British pilgrim with the bee._**

**_After trick or treating, we threw a private party in our house after our son was put down to sleep, because he's just a baby. One month old! Fragile! Exhausted! He deserved rest and he's still growing and it wouldn't be okay keeping him awake all night!_**

**_Page 4_**

_"How sweet!" Sweetly melodious, fuzzy snicker escaped her tongue after perusing warily the paragraphs without skipping a remarkable detail behind Judy's portrayal of her first Halloween with Timothy and Edward. "There should be a romantic novel about the angel of death, falling in love with the English pilgrim and having a baby bee!"Her chapped lips parted in the scoff, throughout twirling her berry-coloured, wet tongue and licking them to hydrate them, obscuring the twinkling glimmer of her chapped cherub lips to be as obnoxious as cut lip after a road accident. Fingertips cradling yet the fourth page and her reproductive thoughts fertilized the constructed paragraphs, dwelling shortly in the realm of her reverie, out of sight, out of reality and envisioning the parents and their love child's Halloween celebration. "How about to go back to eighth page?" In the interim, her dainty fingers flipped a few more pages until the eighth chaffing the corner of her smoky quartz eye and managing a wary scan momentarily. The honeyed whisper escaped her throat boldly as if a protagonist from the movies was narrating nonchalantly, neutrally a monologue._

**_8th of November, 1965_**

**_Late Fall Picnic_**

**_I didn't have any clue after we finished with our breakfasts and Timothy was like within less than a half an hour we shall leave home. At first, I was thinking it was some kind of a game until he didn't want to spoil so much by ruining the surprise._**

**_I was childlike curious what on earth was going on and he just told me it's a surprise by starting to pack our luggage for our woods' picnic and walk. Of course, Edward was with me whilst Timothy was entirely responsible for the luggage!_**

**_We started with the long and finely healthy hike in the woods. It was magnificently gorgeous! The leaves have already tumbled down from the trees. The crispy fresh fall wind was playing and fanning our hairs._**

**_Even though we were almost silent during our hikes and picnic with Timothy, we somehow communicated and raised topics that were neutral and they were out of the church's question even about our painful, gloomy past we've been through and struggling to overcome for almost two months after the nightmare's ending._**

**_The late fall sun was saturatingly smiling at us. We ate, drank, talked and walked. Timothy was telling me about his family background and how he was raised. He was actually raised in a strict, sufficiently pious to attend the church household. Solely his youngest sibling Anna and John weren't religious at all. They were rarely attending the church and oversleeping some morning family assembles. Furthermore, Timothy's mother Scarlet is more open-minded and less problematic than his father, according to him._**

**_Page 8_**

_"And the diapers are supposed to be changed per a couple of hours just like these pads which the ladies wear during their period even overnight before bed." In the meanwhile, Madeleine was snapped out of the reverie realm after heeding cautiously her older brother and her friend's conversation, situated yet in the children's room. Her caramel brown pools flickered up back at the shut the door, gulping a soar lump sluggishly with great deal of efforts and massaging her throat muscles. "Especially when the diaper is full and stinks of, you know!" The former holy man's tongue guttily conjugated the instruction sternly, scarcely dithering to avert his gaze from the younger man's lapis lazuli jewels. The honesty and candor essentially blended and forged the instructions and the solemnly took vows of Roman to keep his promises of looking after the infant with his bobbed head in agreement and posing questions when something baffled or was certainly arcane for assimilation._

_"Phew! Those gentlemen will scare the hell out of me if they dare to step here, while I'm trying to discover the skeletons hiding in Jude's closet after reading her journal's writings." After girding in a whisper herself after slowly and steadily shifting her attention back to the middle-aged woman's personal diary, meanwhile, the Michiganian licked her lips after earnestly scrolling through the pages frictionlessly until her caramel brown irises landed on thirteenth page and perusing the content, paged up on the sheet of paper. Fingertips timidly steading the page to not flap forward or backward, quirking an eyebrow after inspecting eagerly the sheet of paper's content._

_**15th of November, 1965**_

_**Nobody is supposed to read it. Nobody!**_

_**It has been almost two months since I'm out of this hellhole, where I was a nun, a patient and became a mother for first time. Miracles and nightmares haunted this place. It's true.**_

_**But what is actually the purpose of the life? The nightmares still haunt me. I've the strong feeling that they're still appearing in my vision, whether asleep, drifted in a completely different realm or on the contrary, when I'm fighting with the reality from daylight up to night time until I fall asleep.**_

_**I don't know if I'm able to trust Timothy even forgive him. He gave me everything. Home, food and everything even helping me to give a birth when nobody was around even a doctor with rich medical knowledge and experience.**_

_**Timothy is going to be much better without me, raising on his own Edward. I'm just a horrible mother or at least I feel like a monster. Sometimes I scoff at Edward, but I can't blame him. He's a baby.**_

_**I'm a heartbreaker. I'm just a broken lunatic, who deserves nothing. Briarcliff should had been my morgue and grant me the enternity to reunite with the wretched souls or whoever they're in heaven or purgatory, to apologize from heaven or the purgatory to Timothy for wasting weeks.**_

_**I've sometimes wondered what it feels like to be dead. To be peaceful forever. To not move a single muscle and bone. To not hear the people's mourning. To feel the spiritual immortality.**_

_**Just I'm wondering yet f I'm still loved. I feel lost without God and without family. Nobody gives a damn about me. I feel nothing.**_

_**Timothy is way much better parent than me in parenting own son.**_

_**I'm just…**_

_"No, no! This must be impossible!" A sharp reminder punctured the juvenile flower saleswoman's stung widened irises in mortification and nonplus, chewing on slowly and steadily her lower plumpish chapped lip. Her heart rate increased rapidly rabid with the unchanging drums in her ribcage and pulsating into her ears, obnoxiously distinctive for her. Flush crawled underneath her well-carved cheeks with morello blush, embellishing her facial skin superficially and stiff-neckedly. "She must be joking about this horseshit with portraying her suicidal thoughts!" Within another elapsing minute in inspecting warily with ultimate focus, darted to the sheet of paper, her heart sunk and twin chubby tears welled in her eyelids, reluctant to sob even solely distinctive for herself._

_All of a sudden, series of masculine, dull footsteps chattered against the polished wooden planked, stable flooring of the corridor, bulking the young lady's attention and snapping her focus out of the diary and putting it back in the drawer and pushed forward untouched, bearing a semblance of forgotten, private space after straightening her posture and her knees featherly brushing the carpeted flooring shortly before her petite-frame was standing fully._

_"In addition to if you have any further questions about the cherub angel, ask me right away before," Once the Michiganian headed towards the shut bedroom door and the door swung opened in the corner of the both men's eyes, their bones and muscles paralyzed and transfixing their inquisitive gawks on the young woman after stepping in the hall with a foot proximity, catching them off guard. "Glad to see you, Maddie!" Vaguely mischievous smile decorated her porcelain, palish complexion and her grinning softly at the gentlemen. Her face was flamed with amicability, shutting the bedroom door._

_"Are you ready to go on operation save Jude?"_

_"Sure!" Bobbing humbly, strong-willedly in a strong agreement, the older man cleared his throat softly, managing his mammoth, creamy as baby skin hand to pat amiably, weakly Roman's shoulder, pursuing for his lapis lazuli embers to link them with the rigid textures of probity, igniting the inward blazes. "And Roman, take a good care of Edward Ralph, while I and your sister are going to find Cayden's address in the police station!"_

_"Of course, Tim! I will keep an eye on your son." The older sibling of Madeleine reached for the British compatriot's colossal, veiny hand, taking and squeezing it firmly without breaking off the substantial eye contact. "Moreover, be careful guys if you're about to break into that psychotic bastard's house especially you Maddie!" In the interval, his younger sister managed a nod, emitting hoarse, healthily sardonic snigger, tickling the corners of her mouth and muffling the loud, rich tones with a hand over her pink mouth after shooting a promising glance at Madeleine. "I don't want this psychotic piece of shit to ruin you and lose you! I don't even want to think what he's capable of."_

_"I promise we'll be fine and deal somehow with that charlatan!"_

_"Chin up!" The young man's lower eyelids crinkled, seconds before the former pious clergyman to join his friend and hop up in the cab._

\- _End of Flashback_ -

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _17th of February, 1966_ -

The promising morning approached quicker than an early spring heavy rain, pouring in the entire town. The pallid daylight in the wee hours of the morning streamed through the kitchen's curtain-opened window, bathing the room in glamorous silver light.

The both former members of the clergy were already awake since an hour ago after feeding their own son, bathing him and changing his diapers, besides taking a fresh morning shower and currently seating on the kitchen table as Timothy has snatched surreptitiously his girlfriend's journal from the library and dumping it on her seat. At the moment, the infant was sitting in his high chair, shooting his honey brown irises at his mother and the once stray kitten, roving around the former nun's feet whilst awaiting for the pot of water to seethe lastly. Stephen's recurring vapoury mewls hummed in the silent kitchen except the mild, quiet droning of gradually boiling water for the coffee. Her hazelish-brown eyes sheened down at the kettle until she zinged up to the lowest drawer with large package of granules for cats, consequently lugging it up to Stephen's bowl and pouring beehive of granules after the series of jubilant mewls and purrs escaped the young kitten's tongue, nuzzling against the former sleazy nightclub singer's fuzzy slippers.

"How are you feeling, rare bird?" In the meantime, the younger man posed the question caringly after glancing at their ray of sunshine after Judy brought back the large package of cat food back in the lowest drawer and her dainty, flimsy fingers pushed casually the drawer after bending down. The sychronisation of the charcoal gray kitten's still growing, childish teeth munching the crispy, dry chunks of granules laced his tongue hungrily and passionately.

"I'm good!" In a mere cough, subsequently the older woman cleared her throat and propping with her both viciously clawing hands the counter, facing her lover with a vague, optimistically bright smile, her honey brown orbs more alight than before after instantly accomplishing a genuine eye contact. "Much better than yesterday and the chaotic stuff that was going on in the bar!" Emphasizing the entire sentence, she glimpsed at the charcoal gray cat after eavesdropping the hungry symphony of his teeth munching the chunks and filling his empty stomach, her stomach growled until one of her petite hands slithered from the countertop to her round, soft belly, cradling the soft fat beneath the large-sized, unworn T-shirt of the British compatriot. "What about ya too?"

"I'm slightly worried." Suddenly the mirth fell from the Bostonian's parchment face, discoloring her attributes in no time once Timothy emphasized his recent mood in the wee hours of the morning. His heart sunk at the vivid thoughts after scanning the text on thirteenth page of his rare bird's personal diary.

"What exactly worries ya?" Photogenically concerned pair of caramel brown jewels was fixated on the British aristocrat's ducked head, almost losing the sight of the eye contact. An anxious flat line was grimaced her face, her nude pink lips bleaked and not wearing any pattern of joy. "Honey!" The silence spoke the foreign, arcane language of trouble and the unexplainable theories behind the silence until the solution was found and figured out eventually. The bizarreness of the uncommon hush was reopening the old chapter, paging up paragraphs of negative, inexlorable emotions and feelings that were usually brewing and cooking inside her ogans and nerves.

"Mama!" All of a sudden, their baby boy abruptly intervened in his both parents' intense conversation, babbling his mother's friendly, loving nickname, spreading his both pudgy, pajama-clad arms in the thin air and flickering up his hazelish-brown embers at the middle-aged lady.

"Is it something about you?" Meantime, the British aristocrat shook his head in disapproval, shortly before vowels and syllables pricking his tongue tip.

"It's not about me," The strawberry-coloured, almost dry tongue of the former priest attempted to conjugate the confession, lifting up his gaze from his shuffled shoed convenient slippers clad feet up to his rara avis's piercing gaze, begging for a rectitude in his confession and true motives in the hidden message of his revelation. "No matter if it's awhile or whenever it's, it's something about you, Jude!" The durability unrustiness of their crossing stares at one another intensified the atmosphere that was dividing their small space, sharing with one another after Judy approached the kitchen table, stroking gingerly, lovingly her son's dark, crispily soft hair and racking the hairs between her fingers.

"About me?" With an ordinary, ignenous nod the blonde quirked an elegant, feminine eyebrow quizzically."I'm pretty confused. We don't have any further problems and we're trying our best to work on our relationship even forgetting about the past we're coping with."

"It's not about our past except this diary with your suicidal motives and paragraphs." When the younger man yanked the diary from the free seat, lifting it up to meet the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's eyeing, Judy choked with a bitter lump, pumping in her throat in the caught-off guard prospect, flaming widened her eyelids at her personal journal. Galore of questions submerged her thoughts and questioning herself how her boyfriend found about her personal journal. How he dares stucking his nose in her personal paraphernalia without her direct consent? Who told him about her remarkable paraphernalia? Why he questions something which she has written three months ago and now raises it as a topic on the dining table in the morning?

"W-What suicidal motives and paragraphs?" Stutter was almost dying in a whisper, squinting up at his handsome facial attributes, contoured in pure seriousness. Her fingers lingered on her baby son's crispy soft chestnut hair, admiring his youthful, ethereal grace with his inherited attributes from his both parents. "What are ya even the hell talking about?"

"Thirteenth page!" After his long, pristinely meaty fingers scrolled through without a glance, inwardly counting the page's number which he has skipped until his fingers cradled the feeble, frail sheet of paper's material and leaking the suicidal paragraphs with the entire pessimism, sorrow, curiosity about the afterlife and the sentiment of immobility after embracing with open arms and encountering the death, itself, illustrating what the pen that was once grippled between her fingers has composed as content. "It's from 15th of November, the last year."

"Indeed, howsoever, who told ya about my journal?" Suddenly mild annoyance punctured her enquiry, ire and apprehension, blending in a single potion of angst flamed her honey brown pools after Timothy handed her diary to peruse momentarily each paragraph attentively and reflect wisely.

"I won't answer your question unless you let me know what gave you the right to be suicidal even consider it as a salvation." In the interim, the water in the pot commenced dancing seethe, keeping the former holy woman's wits about the seething liquid for the morning caffeine beverage and scooting up to the hot plate, stopping it and setting the pot on the counter, whereas gathering two plain white mugs for hot beverages from the kitchen cabinet above her and pouring the hot liquid in the mugs, peaking up to the rim of the cup.

"I was in depression. A postpartum! Inner voices were despondending my spirits and making me wonder what it would be like to be dead," At the moment, the former nun gripped the mugs' handles and ambling up to the kitchen tableand handing to her lover his cup of caffeine beverage, seating against him. "And I'm a heartbreaker and deserved absolutely nothing and I felt then I lost without God and without family. I felt like nobody cared about me even if I was dead and that Briarcliff should have had been my morgue and apologise ya for wasting yar time for me." After timidly sipping from her mug of morning coffee, consequently caffeine greased her teeth and tongue, whilst the former ambitious Monsignor left aloof his mug on the dining table for a few more minutes until it diminishes the temperature. "And I thought ya would be much better without me and yar much better parent than I." Her ivory fingers absently were playing and toying with the marble handle, casting a lowered gawk at the brown liquid, licking her coffee-stained cherub lips. The hoarseness in her revelation didn't fade away.

"That's not true!" Meantime, the former ambitious Monsignor vouched with vague fretfulness, accentuating his refutation of the blonde's utterance. "What you have written on this page is an absolute exaggeration! Yes, you broke my heart when you were with Cayden, but the rest of the stuff you mentioned from the journal isn't basically true!" Once the British aristocrat mentioned in outstanding emphasis the infamous serial killer's name, thus the middle-aged lady lifted up her eyes from the caffeine beverage up to the younger man's cocoa brown jewels.

"What about the nightmares?"

"Instead of paying a visit to psychologist nearby in Vermont, you consulted with my younger sister Anna. She's definitely the big-shot in psychology and spent a handful of hours on the phone to help you," Timothy's glimpse was casted on their ray of sunshine until his cocoa brown orbs fixated on him, managing to bring a couple of delicate, virginal fingers up to his well-carved, creamy cheek and cradling it beneath his fingertips. "And considering the time you've spent on the phone, listening to your pain and worries even the nightmares you used to have, she truly cherished every precious second of listening to your desperate voice until she advised you what you shall do to overcome your fears and nightmares." The middle-aged woman brought to her face with a couple of fingers of her both hands the porcelain cup, inhaling culpably the mouth-watering, luster aroma of freshly brewed, hot coffee in the wee hours of the morning even during the coldest days of the year. She felt like a vulnerable, small and naïve child with a cup of hot chocolate in third point of view's prospect with inhaling the insatiable fragrance and zapping her frosty fingers naturally, effortlessly.

"I was thinking sometimes I was actually a pain in the neck for yar sister!"

"Even when she was somehow disquiet or something, that doesn't mean you were pain in the neck for Anna!" In the meanwhile, Judy's glossy, naturally mauve lips grazed featherly-light the mug, gulping a few tiny, innocent sips, whereas her boyfriend's fingertips lingered on their baby boy's creaminess, roundness of his cheek. "She's incredibly selfless and loves to hear what tortures the others' mentality and give them a piece of advice shamelessly! But also she really wants to meet you in person and she has told me this every time I speak to her."

"Fair enough! I'd also love to meet her in person, nonetheless, I think thanks to me, ya had to pay a big bill for phone in late November." Suddenly Judy's damp, cherub lips curled in the retort, puncturing her self-consciousness with her Boston lilt.

"It doesn't matter what a big bill I owed to the phone company just because of seeking an advice and help from my sister. I'm glad she helped you so much and her advice and help were worth hours and bunch of energy." Thereafter the British compatriot shifted his temporal attention to the infant, baby talking to him in mumbled velvety whisper after resting his forehead against his, stilling the doting, light caress, abrading his alabaster facial skin with the flatness of his fingertips. "She has listened to abundance of young and old people, complaining what their inner voices from their depressions and suicidal thoughts have whirled and twirled in their minds and thanks to her, they carried on with their own precious lives." At the moment, the former man of the cloth withdrew his yet young-looking, lily-white complexion from his own son and slipping his fingers downward to his jaw, cradling it lovingly and his chocolate brown pools eyeing the older woman's palish with light-heavy wrinkles, mapping her face. "Even if I owed a thousand dollars bill for phone, it's not a hot-shot at all. We're pretty wealthy, thanks to me and my British family! You don't owe me any dollar." His pale-pinkish, plump lips parted in the irony, shortly before grabbing his cup of coffee and sipping of it for first time. The series of jubilant babbles and cooes alongside the gentle purrs after Stephen endearingly finished with his meal and brushing his fluffy, small head in one of his foster owner's shuffled feet under the table hummed in the background as background noise.

"So as I owe ya a thousand of apologies for the night I fled with Edward without warning you wherever I go, in fact, to pay a visit to Mother Claudia in Connecticut by catching the train!"

"I was deadly concerned about you back then and Maddie told me why you wanted to flee Vermont for Connecticut for a couple of days."

"It was also because of Cayden after leaving the custody."

"I fully understand you to go in Connecticut for a few days to see Mother Claudia and what you've been through in the past weeks and days even that dilemma with Cayden," In the meantime, the former aspiring Monsignor left aside gently, cosily his marble cup of caffeine beverage on the kitchen table with his only free hand, whereas the Bostonian managed to purse thoughtfully, absent-mindedly her lips. "But without informing me not only wherever you go, furthermore what's on your mind and what bothers you," Shaking rebukingly his head, opening his mouth in a sarcastic, dark chuckle. "I cannot help you except to wonder what on earth is going on and to try think of deep, surrealistic theories, trying to guess what even sparkles in your mind. Every worry of yours is also my worry! We're just part of each other." The meaningful eyeing which the younger man darted to the former devotional sister of the church, she nibbled her upper lip vulnerably, gulping hard the bittersweet, confining lump in her throat and her throat muscles dancing and crinkling.

\- _An Hour Later_ -

As soon as Andrea woke up to the glacial, motionless corpse of her love interest Harry on the sofa after poisoning himself with the blended mix of beer and bleach in the can as he snuck up in the middle of the night for the bleach and experiment, whilst Andrea was drifted off sleep and the television was lowly humming, the hooker spent a handful of hours mourning over the fresh, surreal death of her own love interest. First and foremost, she got rid off from his emptied beer can with bleach by throwing it in the trash bin and turning off the television, besides phoning Nikita and explaining to her in details about Harry's spontaneous death. Miraculously the nurse promised the Wisconsinian she'll arrive in her one-story house soon.

First and foremost, Nikita and Andrea have been friends for a couple of years since Nikita emigrates in Vermont. The both women haven't contacted one another for weeks and the blonde could always rely on the Afro-American anytime for some aid or piece of advice even urgent medical help, in case, whether if somebody from her inner circle or herself was confronting the unremitting medical issues in any daily's episode.

After drinking her morning coffee, in order to opt to persevering her crush's haphazard death, succumbed by bleach's poisoning in his beer can, she didn't eat anything, nor changed her outfit since the night before. The single mother was seating on the cozy, icy threshold, burying her face in her folded legs, facing forward her thighs. Her hands were blanketed in chilly blanket due to the austere, chaste blizzard slapping the windows with swarm of tumbling crystalline, tiny snowflakes.

All of a sudden, the sound of pulled off car up to the one-story property caught off guard the single mother, lifting up bashfully her face from her thighs to hold her gawk, fixed on the vehicle until its owner and passenger hopped out and eventually emerged in her sight, approaching her. Nikita wasn't alone at all and appreciating the company of the attorney, who was an old friend of hers. The Polish-American and Afro-American were eventually approaching the Wisconsian emphatically, flickering up widened her midnight black pools at the sight of her old friend accompanying the Texasian.

The dreams were confronting the absolute reality or rather the trance and hallucinations after mourning frequently over Harry's death was succumbing her vision even vortex of thoughts. Moreover, Nikita has never raised the topic about Gus's recent condition and acknowledging Andrea that he's still alive and healthy, barely struggling with any health issues. Little did she know if the dreams could be creatively crafted and dwelling her in the reverie realm without an escape unless the crude reality was barriering her and dolling her up in sheer sapience's armor and discernment, although her naivety and compassionate nature.

"Andrea," Meanwhile, the both younger adults strolled up to their old friend, slightly bending against her to draw her attention promptly after the prostitute averted her eyes from them for a split second to cleanse every senseless, goofy comment after her mind crafting it perpetually. Her frail heart squelched every liter and quantity of her drumming heart's blood, fertilizing the cells and sensing the boiling blood beneath her facial skin erupting suddenly. "You shouldn't be worried at all! Once it's over, we'll take care of the business." The younger lady cupped under the middle-aged's chin, supporting the intensifying, fresh eye contact, whilst the Polish-American cleared his throat gruffily and fixing his tie under the winter pantaletot, guarding his skeleton. "I know how much Harry meant the world to you." Andrea meekly, sheepishly managed to nod in agreement, confirming her words for a reassuring absolute truth and emotional arc. "I can fully understand you and that's why we're here."

"Lydia sent me there." The younger man uttered the syllables and vowels sluggishly after his tongue struggled to conjugate them after reuniting with the Wisconsian a few years after his mysterious disappearance from her life and scarcely acknowledging his current status. An arcane gasp escaped the middle-aged blonde's tongue, a vibration and resonance grinding her throat. At the moment, the single mother couldn't help but stare helplessly like a wounded hare at her ex-boyfriend with a weak, mournful smile, wearing galore of amalgamation patterns, indicating her happiness mixed with upsetness. "Because she was beyond busy with some underaged drugged adolescents and dealing with their shenanigans after having a house party in their friend's. She gave them some time to sleep and relax until the real torture begins." Mild sardonism accented his utterance, emitting a husky, woeful giggle after managing to lower his colossal, amusingly warm hand to stroke his ex-girlfriend's halo ringlet of silken gilded strands, framing her round, full profile. She melted in the delicate touch. "But it's unbelievable we're finally seeing each other a few years after this plane crash and my mysterious disappearance!"

"Gus, you don't have any idea how much I yearned this to happen," After straightening her posture from the threshold, meantime, she threw her alabaster, pajama-clad arms around his broad shoulders, clinging her blatantly chilly body to him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "To find me and tell me that everything is alright, despite your mysterious disappearance! I'm not even joking!" Beaming, dainty smile decorated the nurse's dark, still youthful complexion.

"So as I do but I didn't want to upset you more!" Whilst rubbing the small of her back after hooking up his strong arms, circling her middle, his warm breath faintly brushed her earlobe. "Nonetheless, I tried my best to look for you and I didn't find any track of you. I was in coma after the plane crash and I was hospitalized. I couldn't find anything associating me with you or something that is associated with you." With a heavy sigh, fresh, rusty oxygen coursed through his lungs and his fingers cradling her bony middle with mildly flabby skin. "My mind was barren! The plane crash was inescapably a dirty work to think of and consider what consequences left after me and the others that passed away or have luckily survived, however, being conveyed in the hospital for cure!" After breaking off the hug, thereafter they maintained a platonic, appropriate proximity as he tucked a fistful of wild, aureate tresses behind her ear and eventually tracing the well-carved curve of her jaw, his turquoise embers drinking his ex-girlfriend's midnight black that were Pandora's Box of paradoxal misery, concerns and frustration. Blush powdered her cheeks due to the gentlemanly molting touch, dredging her flesh.

"I'm sincerely sorry for upsetting you Andrea and leaving you with cluster of questions that were unanswered and almost impossibly opened for abundance of theoretical answers."

"I'm rather sorry to hear what you've been through after this. The coma. The hospital. The amnesia. The attempt to find me and somehow to collect a tad information about me and have an access to my residence." The velvety softness of blonde's voice was chanting soothingly serene tunes to the lawyer's ears like angelic anthems, encircling the abbey's façade. The building of God. The holy home of the priests, nuns and priestesses. The building of holy icons. The façade of prayers. The façade of any hallowed fragment.

"It's so sweet to see both of you reuniting after everything you've been through but haven't you forgotten we've a business to do," All of a sudden, the Afro-American snapped the both former lovers out of their comfort zone they've excavated with their elating reunion, the graveness contouring rawly her facial features. Earning pair of light and dark irises, darted to her, they flamed seriousness and colder nuances. "Have you, Gus and Andrea?"

"Nikita, I think I've to back you up but it's ages since I saw Andrea and she truly means the world to me as a friend!" The attorney winked gamely at the doctor and heading towards the front door which swung opened after Andrea opened it graciously for them, stepping aside to let her friends to collect Harry's corpse and inspect it before transporting his dead body to the morgue.

"Where's Harry?" Nikita posed the question professionally, abiding serious and the mirth dumping her face shortly after getting back to the business.

"O-On the couch in the living room." In the interim, the prostitute instructed the younger adults to follow her as they were heading to the living room, stammer limping forward and backward in her throat.

Shortly after they stepped inside the room and approaching the sofa, the attorney and nurse surveyed warily Harry's corpse, paying a great deal of attention to the details from head to toes until the lawyer opened with a couple of fingers the young man's mouth in a wide O, snorting in inhale the foul breath of stiff bleach and beer, flaring his nostrils.

"Urgh! Bleach and beer! Interesting, howsoever, promisingly dangerous combination of pleasure and demise!" A frustrated gasp was preproduced from the top of the lawyer's brittle lungs, fanning his nostrils and withdrawing decently approximate distance with the dead body and rolling his lapis lazuli jewels abruptly, half-heartedly.

"I was asleep and I didn't have any clue he would sneak to the kitchen and nobbling the bleach!" Tearful timbre punctured her Wisconsin lilt, gnawing on the raw part of her upper lip, whereas her heart sunk in the mist, abysmal ocean of misery and submerging every flimsy fragment of her heart. Gut-wrenching coldness trickled down her lower abdomen. "And I just woke up in the wee hours of the morning and expecting the morning snuggle and the first person to say good morning to me until I woke up next to his cold corpse, being the first ever person in the morning, behold him helplessly deceased and poisioned." She spread her hands defeatedly after earning Gus and Nikita's piercing, jaded eyeing, starkly glistening their seriousness.

"That's so weird and I don't blame you for being unable to react on the right time before everything was too late for you." In the meanwhile, the attorney averted his irises from Andrea and meeting the nurse's amber orbs for approvement, tilting his head. "Nikita, cat got your tongue?" His pale-pinkish, cherub lips parted in the scoff, raising an arch of his dark, thick eyebrow.

"Bleach and beer! The bleach reacts with alcohol or acetone to form chloroform. This chemical is potentially dangerous and it can knock you out even cause a fatal death or at least, an organ damage."

"Damn! His organs waved the white flag early and I'm still blaming myself I didn't wake up earlier to ensure him a transport to the nearby hospital," Stilling the tearful undertone and the dancing circle of syllables and vowels, the hooker bit her tongue when she was cut off by the doctor and slightly flinched as soon as the lawyer scooped her in a kindhearted, tight hug, blamelessly muting her complaints.

"And chloroform is a very dangerous chemical which is fatal for the victim especially if he's took insane or inappropriate doses. Furthermore, it troubles their breathing and suffocates them, leading to the inescapably impossible for rescue consequences!"

"Oh wow! As a student in high school and studying Science, I didn't have the brain size of Wisconsin at all!" The Wisconsian's blunt confession ruthlessly tingled tunes in the both adults' ears, whilst the Polish-American folded his arms overall his torso. "I was just a failure in Science."

"Andrea," Emphasizing her name, Andrea pursed pensively her lips once Gus snapped at her. "Due to the fact that you weren't the big-shot in Chemistry, that doesn't make you an awful student and stupid!"

"I know, I'm just admitting what I used to be in the Science, Gus!"

\- _A Few Hours Later_ -

In a few hours of hard work and welcoming cluster of clients, assaulting the flower store to purchase either plants or flowers, the both flower store saleswomen' budget in their business increased significantly. The low humming of the radio was droning as a background noise, whilst the Michiganian was drinking her afternoon herbal tea and the former nun jotting down in the notebook the recent budget.

"_Do you believe in magic in a young girl's heart__! __How the music can free her, whenever it starts__! __And it's magic, if the music is groovy__! __It makes you feel happy like an old-time movie__! __I'll tell you about the magic, and it'll free your soul__! __But it's like trying to tell a stranger 'bout rock and roll__!_" Do you Believe in Magic by Lovin Spoonful was recently humming on the radio, the vocalist's eloquent, tuneful voice puncturing the chanting.

The afternoon was embraced by the dim sun dimming the flower store's interior, in spite of the glacial, headstrong blizzard.

"Anything new to spill about you and your relationship with Tim?" The juvenile blonde's inquiry lingered on her tongue after sipping from her herbal tea, squinting up at her mentor with her hazelish-brown embers, igniting childlike inquisitiveness and selflessness.

"He's the same caring and down to earth gentleman and we discussed earlier the journal and about Connecticut." Licking devouringly, wonderfully her plump rosy-coloured lips, moistening them whilst deliver to her protégé the answer she's looking for from the inquiry, begging for an answer in a New York minute.

"What about it?" Tea-stained lips produced the enquiry, mischievously, mirthfully grinning at the older woman, eyeing her radiantly her photogenic, dazzling facial features for her age.

"Of course, he told me that everything I've written on thirteenth page is a total horseshit except that I broke his heart when I was with Cayden," Heavy sigh flushed her constricted chest, nibbling her lower lip agitatedly. "And we can deal with Cayden though he didn't truly like how I don't inform him at all."

"Needless to mention that you're bringing him worries and trouble once he took an utter responsibility over you and sharing a roof with you and your lovely son," After blatantly, smugly slurping a tiny, guiltless sip from the mug of tea, the former pious woman of the cloth's fingers were playing starkly idle with the pen, grasped between her dainty fingers. "And you're just like a rolling stone. Leaving home and disappearing like a ghost in the thin air without even telling him, diminishing the percentage of his worries over you!"

"Regardless if I tell him or not, he'll be fabulously concerned about me!" The former licentious jazz nightclub singer inhaled inwardly, succumbingly the alluring fragrance of swarm of plants and flowers, scrapping her bottom lip between her front ivory teeth and peeping onward her desk and unwrapping her fingers from the pen subconsciously. "Nevertheless, as many times he's a clear disappointment, so as I do but for both of ya! And the straightforwardness and hardly obscuring the secrets between us is the key to heal our relationship."

"_If you believe in magic don't bother to choose__! __If it's jug band music or rhythm and blues__! __Just go and listen it'll start with a smile__! __It won't wipe off your face no matter how hard you try__! __Your feet start tapping and you can't seem to find__! __How you got there, so just blow your mind__!_"

"You're goddamn right and it's twisting your arm to continue to be with him!" Madeleine's Michigan lilt was dancing on her tongue and across their facial attributes with her tea-stained breath, fanning amicably Judy's attributes like a summer breeze.

"I swear and I'm going to take an oath for telling him whatever is going on with me, instead of keep questioning him what on earth is going on with his rare bird." In the meantime, the young lady left aloof her cup of tea on the bureau, her fingertips tipping and toying with the fragile porcelain material, grazing her delicate skin. "It makes a great deal of sense!" Clicking her tongue complacently, consequently Madeleine pursed her lips for a split second.

"Exactly!" All of a sudden, the older lady haphazardly smacked a light-heavy, guiltless slap across her protege's facial attributes, subsequently leaving crimson finger prints overally her cheek and flummox broke her facial expression. The Michiganian averted her gaze from her friend, biting her lip unnerved and stroking gingerly with her spider white fingers the light-heavy searing pain of the slap.

"That's for telling Timothy behind my back what I was writing in my diary." Attached stern twain of caramel brown embers to the juvenile saleswoman, ruefully smiling to her and elaborating the heavy breath after her tongue crafted the words. Hypodermic disdain and embarrassment flamed in the juvenile flower store saleswoman's smoky quartz pools, leveling out to the herbal tea's remaining quantity, pooling the cup. "Do not make a fool out of me, rumormonger!"

"I-I'm trying to protect you and I'm far crying from gossiping and prying, Judy!" Nervously nibbled between her front ivory teeth yet, she glanced back at her mentor skeptically, piercingly and caressing delicately the red-protracted fingers-clad cheek. "Doesn't it hurt you how much I gave from myself and so as Tim did to prevent these childish dilemmas? The suicidal thoughts which every adolescent struggles with. Choosing Cayden as an ex-crush of yours over the family and the friends you've and sacrificed every ounce of themselves you to be as safe as houses." The sharp timbre, puncturing the young blonde's riposte, earning her mentor's quirk of her thin, elegant eyebrow didn't startle and fidget any ounce of her figure and facial expression. "You think I'm some kind of a traitor and prying in your personal stuff in a New York minute? No, I'm the one who helps."

Suddenly the door swung opened at recently arrived customer, seeming unfamiliar to the both ladies, although they could ideally assimilate her addiction to the blue color and commonly being part of her daily outfits, attracting instantly Madeleine and Judy's attentions and lugging them out of their verbal battlefield.

"Good day, ladies!" A slight, affable smile plucked upward Cassandra's lips, eyeing them graciously shortly before shifting her attention to the opulent collection of plants and flowers.

"_If you believe in magic, come along with me__! __We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me__ a__nd maybe, if the music is right__! __I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night__! __And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see__! __How the magic's in the music and the music's in me__!_"

"Good day to you! What we can help with?" Madeleine and Jude uttered fluently the syllables and vowels, tinging their northern lilts in unison.

"I'm looking for something blue. Something exotic." The brunette's dark eyes landed on the plants and flowers, circling her as soldiers, sent to the war.

"We can recommend ya bunch of blue exotic flowers and plants!" The formality, accentuating the Bostonian's exclaimation amalgamated with amicability was distinctive for the young mother, despite her trust issues and persistent nature. "For example delphiniums, daisies, chrysanthemums and many more!"

"I'd like delphiniunms since they're my favorite flowers."

"Good! Mine are actually the marigolds." The younger woman's revelation surprised the brunette as the young blonde attempted to plucking the boquet of azure delphiniums from the tall, lekythos vase. "For whom are these delphiniums, ma'am?" After handing the purchased boquet when Cassandra paid a dollar for the delphiniums, she nuzzled the purchased flowers and nuzzling her delicate nose tip against the petals, relishing their authenticity. "To impress your girlfriend or for a funeral?" The Michiganian's rosy-coloured, plump curled in the punchline of the joke, although the former pious holy woman's tongue clicked and dented a raspy, merry snicker and joining her friend's choir.

"Save your breath, ma'am! They're for my mother."

"That's clearly nice gesture to do for yar mother, young lady! I'm certain yar mother is a great person and you strongly love her." In the interval, the Michiganian pursed her lips, sipping from the mug of lukewarm herbal tea, throughout hydrating her organs and corners of her mouth. The brunette managed to a broken nod, sensing the woeful, ineluctable tearing off of her heart on thousand of pieces at the thought of Andrea and how much she's forsaken her mother, due to the contrition and odium of her and her current occupation. Regardless her mother's occupation, she's still somehow potently loved her to bones and Cassandra's heinous intentions of evading her mother even more treating her far from what she deserved were battering her conscience. Her spider pale fingers were still snaked around the purchased boquet and eyeing the both blondes with a rueful smile. "Is anything wrong? Does she suffers anything and have to pay a visit to her in the hospital?"

"_Yeah, do you believe in magic__! __Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul__! __Believe in the magic of rock and roll__! __Believe in the magic that can set you free__!_"

"No, no! She's rather suffering for losing her love interest after he mixed bleach with beer and," After Cassandra took a deep breath and nibbling on her lower lip continuously as her front teeth grinded on the raw spot of her lip, thus her mind battered the words and constructing them in the impending utterance until its formulated. "And I realized that we're all human with our tragedies and emotions and feelings! My mom doesn't work something that's not out of this world, tho!"

"My condolescences go for yar mother's love interest! I'm sincerely sorry to hear it." Clearing groffily her throat and flexing the gulp with her throat muscles, consequently she glimpsed at the Michiganian and shifting her utter attention to the stranger. "Look what, young lady! I'm nobody's attorney and I'm not judging anyone when it comes up to their occupation and their background unless it's somebody as vicious as Cayden. Even if yar mother is the president of the USA, a nun or a drug dealer, it's your mother and ya mustn't underestimate her just because of the job she's currently working."

"She's a prostitute and you expect this to be perfectly normal?" All of a sudden, the young mother snapped at the middle-aged lady, clinging the boquet to her chest, grinding her jaw after gritting her ivory, still firm teeth. "It's abomination to sell your goddamn body for dollars for your survival and what about the family's reputation? Doesn't she think of the consequences how the others will look at her even at my children and my husband? Even me?" Emphasizing the rhetorical questions under her sharp, furious tone, it didn't startle the blondes at all. Their blank, jaded gawks were fixated on the recent customer and listening attentively though they'd disagree with her. "And out of the question about the flowers."

"Look what, ma'am! I know that Judy has been through similar path like your mother and she used to sleep with men, of course! Howsoever, it was like twenty years ago." Meantime, Cassandra rolled her eyes dramatically, whereas Madeleine glanced back at Judy with a sympathetic smile, offered to her as a second chance. "Unless something befell her and of course, she changed her mind and she was no longer selling her own body. What about the changes? Definitely, she changed for much better and now she's just the wonderful Judy I know even though I didn't know her ever before. It's never too late to notice some kind of change in your mother or the person you love dearly."

"_Ohh, talking 'bout magic__! __Do you believe like I believe (Do you believe in magic)__! __Do you believe like I believe (Do you believe, believer)__! __Do you believe like I believe (Do you believe in magic)__!_" The music's instrumental was petering out in the background, factly, the last paragraph with the lyrics was chanting persistently.

"It's a blasphemy even a sin to not love yar parent even neglect them just because due to their background, job or whatever motive gives ya to belittle them." The Bostonian's wisdom articulated sternly and mentioning one of the ten commandements to the brunette after an ambiguous smile touched her lips generously. "Anyway what's yar name, ma'am?"

"Cassandra Rodham Johnson!" The bashfulness in her Vermont lilt spotlighted her introduction to the both women. "What about your names?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra! I'm Madeleine Skyler Wilson and I'm actually coming from Detroit, Michigan." Meanwhile, the young lady shook the Vermontian's hand gently, formally polite and bobbing lightly her head, maintaining the appropriate fixation of her eye contact.

"It's nice to meet ya, Cassandra! I'm Judy Martin. I'm from Boston, Massachusetts." After the introduction and the shook hands, thereafter the Vermontian couldn't stifle a sharp exhale.

"_Down in the boondocks__! __Down in the boondocks__! __People put me down 'cause that's the side of town I was born in__! __I love her, she loves me__! __But I don't fit in her society__! __Lord, have mercy on the boy from down in the boondocks__!_" Another song droned on the radio which was Down In The Boondocks by Billy Joe Royal.

\- _A Couple of Hours Later_ -

After finishing her full-time work shift in the flower store and earning a tremendous budget through the day, the former devotional member of the clergy got back at home safe and sound even delighted to behold and reunite with her family after spending hours with their absence, craving to keep in touch with them and share galore of stories from their daily lives.

Whilst Edward was in his crib and snuggling with his light brown teddy bear, drew in a tight, clingy hug, in fact, it's his favorite toy, Stephen the kitten was lurking around the house's both floors and examining every detail and room that was facing him unlike the former aspiring Monsignor, who was in the bath and relaxing under the steamy, convenient blanket of bubbles, lathering his stark epidermis. Sucking in a deep breath leisurely the fresh fragrance of bubbles, hot streamy bath, shampoos and soap wafting across his sensitive, flexible nostrils, he dropped back his head against the rim of the bathtub.

The evening hours were approaching sooner than later. The yellow saturating light bulb, hanging over in the bathroom was dimming and obscuring the sunset's filter to bath the room with its somber prospect and brushes the paint of the background.

Every exhale and inhale were gracefully indicating how hedonistically pleased was the former priest after phoning the vet and slightly arguing with him they should bring Stephen in the vet clicnic sooner than the imminent week, the extra cares for two more living souls like an infant and a foster kitten and chores were shoulders' weight and lugging off afterward. Further, he could rarely relax ultimately from every chore and every care he's granted to his family and the two-story mansion's upkeep, during his lover's absence.

Suddenly a few innocently faint door taps caught him off guard and curling his toes up and fluttering open his eyelids and darting them to the bathroom door, gnawing on the rap spot of his lower plumpish lip.

"May I come in?" The Bostonian's inquiry tingled eloquent early morning birdsongs' in his sensitive ears and cherry blush tinging his well-defined cheeks. His heart sunk in oblivion at the thought of his girlfriend entering in the bathroom if his answer was positive and the bids not highly affecting them and their conscience at all.

"Sure!" The British compatriot replied until the bathroom door swung opened as the middle-aged lady set a foot in the bathroom and shutting the door behind her afterwards with a towel, pawing her shoulder carelessly. "My Goodness! For how long have ya been stuck in this bathtub?" Suddenly the former promiscuous nightclub singer flickered up widened her hazelish-brown pools at the sight of her lover naked and exposed with bubbles, solely blanketing his natural nudity. Generous layer of flush battered her face and a vaguely embarrassed smile adorned her roseate, cherub lips.

"Already ten minutes! It's so tiring today and it's out of the question why I'm here." His baby-pinkish, damp lips motioned in the scoff, whereas the former sister of the church didn't oppress a hoarse, healthy snicker, clicking the roof of her mouth and ogling at the younger man's charming, saturating-sheening complexion.

"Yar full of shit! I'm guessing why yar here." In the meantime, Judy was taking off her celeste blazer, followed by her midnight black skirt along with the black, wool stockings and her white shirt with unbuttoning the stubborn, tiny buttons. A complacent, haphazard gasp wasn't stifled by Timothy's tongue and groan amalgamating with the slurping vowels and syllables' soundtrack. "You are sounding quite satisfied and impatient, aren't ya?" The teasing accent highlighted her rhetorical enquiry, nipping her upper lip reluctantly and her epidermis was buffeted with electrifying goosebumps from head to toes.

"Come on, Jude! I know what you're exactly coveting." Even though the younger man overlooked Jude's question, she smugly grinned at him, wickedly chuckling as a sheer hint what the middle-aged lady has craved for through the weeks and eventually one of her dreams are equivalent to the reality. Timothy perfectly knew what Judy exactly yearned for and their current chance of reuniting somehow even leveling out was inevitably persuading them in not missing it rather than something befell either of them and missing their great deal of opportunity. Notwithstanding the circumstances, the both former members of the church have had fantasies of one another, involved in unholy and sexual acts. Their hitching, breathless torsos losing the healthy oxygen after their hips grinding altogether in a recurring sychronisation, breathless and sweet moans and groans almost dying on their tongues, breathy and round breasts with pebbled mauve, small erected nipples brushing against masculinely hairy, muscular torso and perpisation clobbering their palish fleshes with sticky, naturally human sweat with their tightly shut eyelids, relishing their essences interweaving and mammoth, secure hands clawing her swan-curved clad hips.

"Are ya truly sure ya want this?" Once the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's petite-frame was donned in nothing else than her own nudity, thereafter she wobbled up girlishly, coyly up to the bath and joining her boyfriend in the bath, seating inside against him. His smoky quartz irises stung widened in awe at the former holy woman's naked figure with its breathtaking, enchanting attributes, although he ushered her to recline on his bare figure.

"I definitely want it more than anything. I won't regret it for being with you, my rare bird!" After readjusting her posture, subsequently the British aristocrat felt double weight clung to his tall figure and snaking his both muscly, secure arms around Judy's waist for support and providing her comfort, love, warmness and security. In the meanwhile, he nuzzled the nape of her delicate, alabaster neck and sensing petite, creamy hands were clawing his knuckles, kneading them lightly with the pads of her fingers. "You smell of exhaustion and work."

"Mmmm! I know, honey!" Soft, sultry moan grinded in the corners of her mouth after series of peppered delicate, feather kisses, peltering the delicate, frail skin, the former woman of the cloth fluttere shut her eyelids and her lover pursued for her ogle. "That's just perfect!" The pads of her fingers steadily worked on kneading the masculine, rigid knuckles and molting in the cuddle which she shared with the British aristocrat. "Did you phone the vet?"

"I did." After planting another peck on the sensitive skin of the nape of her neck, consequently a complacent groan touched his berry-coloured lips. "We had somewhat disagreements and initially he suggested me to pay a visit to him in the beginning of the next week, despite I insisted slightly earlier, because Stephen doesn't seem in fine condition at all even when we brought him at home a few nights ago with frostbite and half dead."

"That means we shall visit the vet clinic within a few days?" In the interim, one of Timothy's hands was no longer squeezing her waist and managing to reach for the other sponge and lathering it with the soap, thereafter lathering her shoulders gently, cozily and the intensifying silence that was arching them for a split second managed to maintain a purse on the older lady's rosy-coloured, plump lips, relishing how her boyfriend was sponging overally her body and cherishing the gracefully cocking back her head, giving him a better access to sponge the rest of anatomy. Now, her honey brown irises were lingering to maintain for longer the eye contact with the former ambitious Monsignor.

"On Saturday in ten o'clock in the morning!" At the moment, the Bostonian bobbed her head in a solemn agreement when her cherub lips popped up immediately, confirming his utterance and the arranged time for the vet clinic. "Furthermore, I informed him in details what's going on with Stephen and that we found him a few nights ago in the flowerbed half dead with frostbites." After lathering each body part of hers shamelessly, he wringed with his entire strength the sponge and bubble bath's pooling liquid laundering them in a jiffy.

"That's good!" Suddenly she threw her both alabaster, damp arms around his neck, drawing closer to him as his hard crotch poked her pubic bone after wrapping her leanly long, spider legs around his waist, her fingers knitting the nape of his neck eagerly. "Timothy,"

"Yes, my rara avis?" His colossal, veiny hands secured her waist, fingers massaging the flabby, slim waist's flesh and crinkled in stretch marks. Benevolently soft smile brushed his pale-pinkish lips, softening his facial features.

"I've to admit I'm apologizing for my shitty arrogance sometimes even when yar tremendously caring about me, but also for hurting ya through the days and weeks whenever ya questioned my emotions and feelings." Masculine pubic hair was tickling the older woman's buttocks as their faces' proximity was approximately hardly an inch, dividing them.

"You aren't supposed to apologize for something that's inevitably not your fault at all. I completely understand how irritated and stressed you're eventually and that's burdening you." Once the former clergyman's parchment, young-looking complexion approached his lover's, he unwrapped one of his hands from her waist and lifting up to her chin, gripping it with a couple of fingers, tilting her head to meet his enthralled ogle, transfixed on hers. "Everything is going to be okay." Meantime, he captured her roseate, soft as velvet lips in a hardening, streamy kiss, the pad of his thumb massaging her chin featherly, fluttering shut their eyelids and their surroundings were oblivious for them. Her erected mauve nipples were pebbled by the balmy climate after having a streamy bath with the former clergyman and pressing them to his hairy, muscular chest. Their heart rates surrealistically increased and the drums in their chests throbbing vehemently with its pulsations into their ears. As their kisses escalated to ferociously aggressive, thus their wet, strawberry-coloured tongues commenced dueling each other until Jude's tongue won the duel and plugging it inside his mouth, deepening their kiss in a French and her elvish, smooth hands reached for his chestnut hair, combing and playing with it vigorously.

At the moment, the British compatriot's hand lowered to her round, full breast and cupping and palming her hardened nipple, while his pale lips slithered from hers downward to her delicate, palish neck and beginning with the course of light, dainty kisses, peppering her neck until they escalated to vehemently savage with nipping the sensitive skin of her throat.

"Oh fuck! That's fucking awesome. Don't stop, darling!" Her fevered, breathless voice highlighted her cussing, cocking back her head and not paying attention to the strong language's usage. Smug groans and moans coursed through their throats, whereas Judy's hand slithered down to his hard manhood and teasing and jerking it off with her fingers, steadily and strong-willedly working on the stiffness.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" The younger man couldn't stifle the tempting, succumbing touch, pricking his manhood and most of all, his girlfriend jerking it off with her dainty fingers.

"I really want ya inside me. To feel how hard you're for me!" In the meantime, the former holy man salivated her throat and leaving a track of his assault until she positioned his member at her entrance, filling the emptiness and taking their time muster with the length, filling her vaginal walls seconds before the thrusts. They fluttered opened their eyes to take their time to admire one another's facial features after Timothy withdrew from her neck, the thumb kneading her hardened, pink nipple. "Treat me like yar slut!" Then her fingers lingered his overall muscular torso, admiring the ethereal masculinity, grazing underneath her fingertips and pads of her long, slim fingers. Her lips produced a mirthful, tuneful hum, tingling angelic anthems in her lover's ears.

As soon as the younger man started thrusting and Judy's core walls contracted his member's stiffness, sorely painful moans and groans dripped from their tongues until the thrusts were quicker and less painful.

"Timothy!" The Bostonian mewled softly his name, arching her neck and dropping back her head wildly, bluntly. "Oh fuck! Yar hard as rock. Sweet Jesus!" She hissed through her hitching breathing, grinding and rotating her hips violently, restlessly.

"You're so tight, rare bird! Damn!" Timothy's hiss tingled an early morning's birdsong tune into her ears and their uncontrollably bleated shrilling moans broke their facial expressions. Then one of her hands managed to cup her medium-sized, round breast and palming obdurately her erected nipple and the soft fat of her breast, riding the former aspiring Monsignor's crotch incessantly and their fleshes slapping, gnawing on her lower lip idly. Vowels and syllables combated one another, whilst her tongue longed to forge another moan, groan even babble. "You're so perfect, my Jude!"

"So as yar the one who's perfection! You're astonishingly hard. Isn't that for me, sweetheart?" Her lion mane of glossy old Hollywood gilded tresses were bouncing up along with her breasts in choir with each thrust, opening her jewels to meet the former clergyman's ogle. "Right?" Timothy managed a nod in strong agreement, affirming her words with a complacent, cocksure smile, thrieving across his porcelain, youthful complexion.

Within a couple of thrusts, they were approaching their climaxes until Timothy planted his seed inside her core and removed his member from her core, consequently the blonde collapsed on top of him breathlessly, fatiguedly and panting heavily in unison.

"That was fucking amazing! Ya were just incredible." Stammers were almost dying on her tongue tip, her Boston lilt spotlighting her utterance and burying her face in the crook of his muscular, protective arm for comfort. Thick layer of perspiration glimmered in the dimming yellow bathroom and her knees weakened. Her fingers knitted the nape of his neck, whereas her middle was supported by his snaked secure arms.

"You're also amazing, Jude! You don't have any idea for how long I've awaited for this."

"So as I do!" Meanwhile, she captured his baby-pinkish, soft as velvet lips in a sultry, brief kiss, grasping the sensitive skin of his neck. "Oh God!"

\- _The Next Day_ -

\- _18th of February, 1966_ -

The day after approached quicker than the summer breeze. Today it was Judy's day off work and having a handful of days to take a break from working as a saleswoman in the flower store with Madeleine. First and foremost, the small family had a breakfast less than an hour ago and Judy took care of the dishes by washing them, whereas Timothy kept in secret the surprise he's prepared for his rare bird by pulling off his cab up to Vermont's outskirts. Moreover, the Bostonian was home alone with her own son, who was currently asleep and the two-month old kitten, playing around the house. Last but not least, Judy was sitting on the porch of the two-story house, perusing the morning's newspaper just of curiosity

At the moment, Louise was pulling off one of her grandchildren Mary Louise up to her house after working a night shift as a booking agent in the hotel. What it was oblivious for the both ladies was that in the luggage carrier the notorious serial killer of Vermont, Cayden has planted a bomb, confusing the black cab for the former clergyman's vehicle. During their driving journey up to Louise's property, she couldn't halt the overwhelming thoughts of her son's demise and most of all, persevere and assimilate mentally and physically his death after paying a visit to the morgue yesterday. The middle-aged lady couldn't blink her eyelid for a single second. She struggled with sleeping and to persevere the insomnia that overtook her in the past days. Last but not least, whilst her hands were stilling on the steering wheel, Mary Louise was consolingly hugging her teddy bear and reassuringly chanting a song which she's learnt from elementary school.

"You're so brightly talented and cheering me up, Mary Louise! I couldn't be more proud of you!" Although the booking agent's attempts to suppress the overwhelming thoughts of her son's death, she tried her best to distract herself with one of her grandchildren and conversate her for abundance of topics. Rueful smile cradled across her conservatively mauve painted lips, glancing back at the speed meter, attempting to control the vehicle's speed with great efforts.

"Thank you so much, Granny! I love you very much!"

The spontanenous silence crawled in the car, seconds before the bomb's explosion and odd feeling plagued the older lady, biting her tongue and her tongue sluggishly struggling to conjugate another utterance.

"Love you too, my cupcake!" Her light embers blazed with nonplus and void, her heart aching and grieving over Harry's death. "Harry!" Her northern lilt bleated the whisper in velvety timbre, solely distinctive for her and tears rimming her eyes.

In the meanwhile, the former sleazy nightclub singer flipped forward on the final page of the morning newspaper, moistening her lips with flapping her tongue outside and eagerly grazing wetly the delicate skin of her lips. All of a sudden, a lethal explosion which was feet away from her home's territory caught her off guard and lifting up her rear from the porch and scramming up to the Victorian style's lacquered iron gates and pushing askew one of the wings by walking away from her property's area. Sometimes the solicitude was mortifying her even with bizarre, unpredictable background noises, disturbing the hush. Her caramel brown orbs widened at the sight of burning car and how its driver and passenger were dying slowly inside the fire.

"Holy!" The only syllables which Judy's tongue opted to forge were for a cuss, her heart sunk and grasping in one of her petite, creamy hands the newspaper after rolling it as a scroll.

Little did she know who were inside the burning car and who was responsible for the searing nightmare. An eerie flat line brushed her lips. It wasn't a smile, nor a frown. Quirking quizzically, baffledly her eyebrow, she meowed a grunt.

The fire was doing its own job. Defacing to pieces every fragment of the vehicle from its surroundings up to the pettiest further objects inside. The ignited teddy bear which was once Mary Louise's favorite stuffed animal, scooped in her pudgy, childish arms until they belonged to nobody. Ashes thickly, marvelously coated the stuffed animal.

**Author's Note: Is Madeleine actually angry with Judy and their friendship is destroyed? Do you think Judy still trusts Maddie? What do you think will happen further with Judy and Tim's relationship after reuniting physically, besides mentally?**


	23. Bolt from the Blue

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Maddie, what on earth is going on? Shh, shh, you'll be good! Maddie, you can tell me anything! I'm your older brother and I'm the sole man that can hear your pain and roar."_

_"It's not about me, Roman, but it's about my friend and I told her boyfriend about her secret journal, where she wrote a couple of suicidal, ridiculous paragraphs which have nothing to do with what kind of a person she's except sometimes she's sometimes angry with Edward for when he doesn't have his regular breastmilk."  
_

_"Edward only cries and fusses whenever he doesn't receive his regular breastmilk per a few hours at least or he needs some attention and affection. __He's a specific baby. He doesn't trust easily strangers and he's quite bashful around them, you know! Except for Maddie when Jude and your sister met for first time." _

_"It's show time. __How sweet! __How about to go back to eighth page?" __  
_

_"Instead of paying a visit to psychologist nearby in Vermont, you consulted with my younger sister Anna. She's definitely the big-shot in psychology and spent a handful of hours on the phone to help you and considering the time you've spent on the phone, listening to your pain and worries even the nightmares you used to have, she truly cherished every precious second of listening to your desperate voice until she advised you what you shall do to overcome your fears and nightmares."_

_"I was thinking sometimes I was actually a pain in the neck for yar sister!"  
_

_"Bleach and beer! The bleach reacts with alcohol or acetone to form chloroform. This chemical is potentially dangerous and it can knock you out even cause a fatal death or at least, an organ damage."_

_"Damn! His organs waved the white flag early and I'm still blaming myself I didn't wake up earlier to ensure him a transport to the nearby hospital,"_

_"I-I'm trying to protect you and I'm far crying from gossiping and prying, Judy! Doesn't it hurt you how much I gave from myself and so as Tim did to prevent these childish dilemmas? The suicidal thoughts which every adolescent struggles with. Choosing Cayden as an ex-crush of yours over the family and the friends you've and sacrificed every ounce of themselves you to be as safe as houses. You think I'm some kind of a traitor and prying in your personal stuff in a New York minute? No, I'm the one who helps."_

_"Good day, ladies!"  
_

_"Come on, Jude! I know what you're exactly coveting."_

_"Are ya truly sure ya want this?"_

_"Love you too, my cupcake! Harry!"_

_"Holy!"_

A small village, somewhere located in Springfield, Vermont with a small quantity of population, scaling the measured sum of numbers from newborns to seniors inhabiting the outskirts of Springfield. The mid-winter was whistling and chanting its own ballad over the small city of Vermont with the lavish snowfall. The fresh, mintily sweet winter air wafting across the surroundings' nostrils even inhaled quietly and treasured pearly after staying inside the four-wall rooms of their properties where the air was stiff as if the window hasn't been opened for days to come fresh air.

Ultramarine sedan was pulled off in the depths of the village, whilst car's rigid wheels persistently waded through the freshly cleaned path. Horde of children in visible age in elementary school were playing on the snow, whilst their parents were seating on the oakwood bench, supervising their rays of sunshines. Silver-ashy daylight light filtered their exposed fleshes and weathering them with tempest of invisible chilliness, blown by the frost wind, dancing its own dance in the small village rhythmically. The monotonously frequent buzzing of the car engine tingled symphony of pressure for the adults, seating on the oakwood bench after transfixing skeptically their orbs on the ultramarine sedan.

All of a sudden, the vehicle halted in stop in the middle of the path, subsequently Martha and Sebastian hopping out as Sebastian carried in his rucksack products for delivery such as cosmetics, poisoned alcohol and chemicals, outspread inside liquor. The extra weight, burdening with pressure and fatigue was rather an exercise for the infamous serial killer's older brother, accompanied by his nephew. The young woman was donned in charcoal black attires of stealthness with mask, masking her porcelain, youthful complexion and the solely perforated areas of her rigidly ebony mask were her cherub, appealingly roseate lips and her big smoky quartz jewels, glimmering thousand patterns of chaotic rancor and stormy vengeance.

In the meanwhile, the middle-aged man managed his glove-clad mammoth, stiff and veiny hand to slither down to his nephew's shoulder, clawing with his gloved fingers, posing heroically past the vehicle and glimpsing at each direction, whereas the elementary scholers averted their eyes from their recently crafted snowman to peer behind them and meeting the both adults' eerily disquieting gawks, blankly and glassily surveying the mannerism of their facilely readable body language and facial expressions, choking on their babbles.

"Who are those?" One of the boys pointed with his gloved, pudgy hand at the approaching minions of the infamous Vermont serial killer with their big-headed, steadily slow gaits, measuring the strides from the sedan up to the horde of children.

"I-I don't have any clue, Benjamin!" The first young girl's attention was shifted to Martha and Sebastian, her ivory, starkly childish teeth gnawing on the raw spot of her chapped lower thin lip, flickering up at their much taller figures. Blush tinged the speechless infants' chubby, well-carved cheeks and flush infecting their necks. "Who are you?"

"Hey, both of you," At the moment, the both parents of Benjamin attempted to draw the strangers' attention, emphasis puncturing their wariness though the middle-aged removed his rucksacks from his back, in order to unzip one of the pockets to rummage it for abundance of poisoned chocolate bars for the infants. "Over there!" Only the brunette turned to the older adults with grimace, twisted across her young-looking, parchment complexion and hissing balefully quiet, antagonizingly, whereas her glove-clad petite, weathered hands were curled in unattractively balled fists. "What on earth do you want from our children? Get out of here." The hostile sternity, puncturing the other man's utterance amalgamated with the young lady's feline, vindictive hiss, droning her cherub rosy-coloured lips and the unzipping sound interweaved with the background noise as the middle-aged was hunkering against his backpack and managing to insert his hand in one of the unzipped pockets, fumbling enveloped exquisitely galore of high-quality, molting chocolate bars, absently grazing the gloved pads of his fingers with thin fabric and consequently yanking them altogether from his backpack, zipping the pocket defaultly.

"Stay away from our children!" Great deal of amalgamation of desperation and ire spotlighted the older woman's scorn, whereas her husband managed to wedge his lips in a pensive, doubtful purse. "Cat got your tongue?" The attempts of the both overprotective parents to protect the group of five children were nothing a brilliantly bare fiasco, intensifying the atmosphere even when Martha and Sebastian scarcely peeled a single word to vouch their admonitions, factly, their fearlessness stifled their tongues to conjugate the lurching remnants of syllables and vowels on their tongues and constructing their own retaliation even with a few words. "What are you waiting for? Go!" As soon as the middle-aged gentleman lugged up the rucksack on his shoulders after pushing his bulky muscular, strong arms with the tightened straps, supporting his shoulders, the brunette strolled up to the older adults vindictively. Stilling her balled fists lightly bounced with the half-hearted, ominuously strong stomps, mapping the snow with tracks of her footsteps barely tilted and ducked their heads, glaring at the young lady.

"You think you can give us the frights of our lives?" Baring his teeth, he opted to manage to grip the young woman's wrist, although her surreally youthful nimbleness, indicating her swiftness in evading unfriendly and foreign physical contact. The heart rates heinously increased with the drums, throbbing vehemently in their chests and the pulsations into their ears. "Think about-" All of a sudden, the brunette's slim, long as flute stings fingers managed to reach for Benjamin's mother throat, headstrongly wrapping her fingers around the delicate, alabaster skin of her neck and clasping with entire strength, adrenaline pumping into Martha's veins and coldhearted dominance flaming her smoky quartz embers. The unorthodox grasp of fingers, curled around Benjamin's mother neck lingered onto the alabaster skin, whilst Travor grabbed Martha's wrist forcefully though it mortified him the peculiar strength and agile in the brunette.

"Get your foul hands off my wife!"

"It's so tasty!" The second girl of the beehive of infants' rejoice didn't fell from her round, sculptured with baby fat complexion after munching the first scrumptious, molting bite from her chocolate bar, whereas her siblings were savoring from the insatiable brown sweet, fluttering shut their eyes in tiny slits. "Yum!" In the interval, the Italian compatriot's cocoa brown irises were fixated on the beehive of children as if they were in seventh heaven. What it was oblivious for the youngsters was that their favorite brown sweet was venomed viciously. Cocksurely smug, crooked smirk blurred the iron-boundly textures of misery and angst, brightening the saturating hues of merriness, adorning his light-heavy wrinkles uncommonly.

"Is that all what you can do, milksop?" Vilely infernal snigger clicked the roof of the brunette's mouth, her lips parting in the scoff during the failed attempts of Travor to stop her from choking Willhemina, hardly maintaining an adequate eye contact with Travor as a shadow was casted as a curtain across the young lady's masked face, gritting her teeth. "To the daughter of the outstanding celebrity of Vermont?" The snigger looped in an unvarying soundtrack of agony, tingling a requiem in the both adults' ears until the children' final moments before losing conciscousness and thumping backward on the snow like bluntly, ruthlessly tossed sack of potatoes, afterwards designating the position of their marked territory with mouths opened in a wide O and stung widened embers, blankly fixated on the hoary winter sky. "Try again, milksop!" The huskiness, sardonism of the young woman's snigger didn't fade away until Travor smacked a blunt slap across the stranger's masked attributes, dazzling her as the gloved fingertips of her dainty fingers brushed faintly, delicately the slapped area, seared in cherry blush cheek and unwrapping her fingers from Willhemina's throat haphazardly, subsequently trying to catch her breath with fantastically monstrous efforts, reclining on the bench, whereas Travor drew her in a tight, comforting doting embrace as his muscly, potent arms secured her middle, his chin perching on the top of her head consolingly and stilling his glare at the young woman.

"I don't know you, but it's better for you to go before I call," Travos's ferocious hiss, buzzing his pale, thin lips, whilst hearteningly cradling his wife's head as her parchment, yet young-looking complexion was buried in the crook of his arm, evading maintaining an adequate eye contact with the brunette. The brunette's mouth was gaped in a complacent, huge grin, decorating her masked face, whereas her fingertips managed to gently, dearly massage the bruised area. "The police for letting this culprit poisoning the kids with those chocolate bars!" All of a sudden, Sebastian's hoity-toity gait stipulated in the impending destination. His nephew and the parents of the envenomed youngsters. Mammoth, unamusingly balmy hand managed to reach for Martha's alabaster shoulder blade, thereafter clawing with his fingers and tilting his head to press a feather, sweet peck on the top of her head. Martha pursued for her uncle's gaze, thus offering him a vainly smug, brilliantly outlawed smirk, curling upon her rosy-coloured, oddly chapped lips, mewling a hum. "You the both creeps! You better stay away from us! That's the last warning!" The impassibility, smugly sedating their bones and muscles didn't break their triumphiantly rejoiced facial expressions at all.

A half an hour after the vehicle's explosion in the middle of the road, the former holy woman entered back at home to check on the two-month kitten and her son, in case, if they're peckish.

Once the the former holy woman was in the living room with Stephen, seating on her alabaster lap cozily, his tiny, slender body was assaulted by the delicate elvish, creamy hands of Jude, petting his head downward to his tiny, short-haired fuzzy tail and kneading with fingertips his spine, whereas her seating posture adjusting in reclining on the leather sofa and managing to transfix her honey brown jewels on the television screen which was currently broadcasting the afternoon news.

"_Just minutes ago a car explosion situates in the middle of the road in central Vermont's countryside, in fact, the bomb was planted in the luggage carrier of the car just minutes before the explosion!_" In the meanwhile, the mellowness of Stephen's satisfied and cheerful purs slipped from his strawberry-coloured, wee tongue, clutching shut his eyelids in tiny, curved slits and molting in the pure, humongous affection he earns from his foster owner. The recent journalist whose monologue was punctured with vast emotion and professionalism tingled a requiem to the middle-aged woman, glimpsing to the charcoal black kitten and mimicking nuzzling with her dainty button nose's tip against his fuzzy, fluffy head. The amalgamation of heartache, sunk in the misty ocean of oblivion and melting in warmness and sheer affection and innocence swaddled lukewarmly her flimsy heart, cramming vehemently frequent in her ribcage. "_The victims of the car explosion are two as they're both females. A woman in the beginning of her fifties and one of her grandchildren, presumably an elementary school student! Shortly after the woman loses and grieves over her son's death._" The two-story mansion submerged in a luster hush with exception the humming television in the living room, resuscitating the domestic atmosphere with modicum of life. Meantime, the blonde flickered up her smoky quartz jewels at the television screen with the both journalists, announcing the breaking news. Her roseate, plumpish lips managed to zip in a thoughtful, resilient purse and still manipulating her slimily long as piano keys, pale fingers cradling and stroking the smooth softness of Stephen's frail skeleton. "_The incident happens just after the middle-aged woman finishes her shift as a booking agent in the hotel and a day after visiting her son in the morgue. Last but not least, the perpetrator is still unknown!_"

Suddenly the Bostonian's solely free hand reached for the remote control alongside her pelvis, in order to turn off the television after acknowledging the breaking news about the car explosion after the bomb played its own cards right with delaying the preys' exceeding reaction to save their own lives or at least attempting to alter anything for themselves just before the fatal epilogue.

"I'll be right back, sweetheart!" When she lifted up her rear from the leather sofa, consequently the Bostonian lugged the charcoal black cat to sit and relax on the convenient furniture, stroking from his head downward to his tail gingerly, softly and lingering her smoky quartz irises on the pet with a vaguely woeful, benevolent smile, glimmering across her porcelain, alabaster complexion and texturing softness of mild sorrow, factly, she witnessed the vehicle's explosion of Louise and her granddaughter. "Stay here and relax!" Afterward the former sister of the church ambled up to the kitchen after walking away from the living room and giving galore of attention and affection to the pet and the hygiene was exceedingly important even when after interacting to Stephen and granting him everything he must be provided. The woeful smile still lingered, spread across the former nun's cherub, naturally mauve lips. Meanwhile, her hazelish-brown, dispersed with silvery daylight light bathing the kitchen in natural light with the widely opened curtains, mirrored profoundly deliquesced pools of hazelish chocolate, mirroring the realistic manipulated reflection of her vision with the turned faucet and the fat jet water, streaming the kitchen sink's ground and soaking her marbled, petite hands after kneading between her fingers.

The frost climate, dashing overspread like plague in the entire household peebled the braless armored bosom's soft fat nipples, pricking underneath her convenient, plain bloody red sweater and indicating the sensitivity of her body to the mid-winter climate, cusping with the anomality of the body temperature. A fistful of rebellious gloosy gilt tresses bounced piled up on her dainty shoulders whilst lathering up to her frail wrists marbled soaped foam, gloving her knuckles, fingers and overall hands. The featureless, crystal lukewarm running jet water, splashing its own cataract slapped the marbled soaped foam from the former holy woman's elvish, creamy hands, easening the comfort and smugness. Afterwards the jet water vanished after the turned faucet and lowering her hands to the towel, ushering the fabric to drench with the daubed hands, the Bostonian walked away from the kitchen as she draped lazily one of her pantaletots from the coat hanger, swaddling her shoulders in the extra weight cloth to shield her against the mid-February frosty climate.

Once the middle-aged woman swung shut the front door after dashing from the corridor up to outside, her fragilely slimily long fingers managed to squeeze the lapels, striding up to the Victorian style, exquisitely lacquered iron gates and nudging an elbow to push one of the wings indolently. Her hazelish-brown embers were fixed perpendicularly and after her petite-frame strided away from one of the gates' wings, Jude shifted her attention to the burnt car. Timidly opening her mouth in a soft O, the remnants of the car explosion still haunted her to bones with scrutinizing from several yards distance each meaningful detail in the corner of her eye. The corpses were already collected from the once burnt vehicle. Solely what the middle-aged lady could notice from distance even when her footsteps were leading to the ashy, godforsaken car an ashy stuffed animal, glassily transfixing his gaze on the walking petite-frame.

The cold and the snowfall weren't problematically slowing down the blonde. Adrenalline pumped into her veins and the capillars were scorching with overflowing glacial lava, feuding her body temperature even when a winter coat was securing her frail skeleton. Snorting the crispily fresh winter fragrance, wafting across her nostrils with delicateness, throughout she maintained a sufficient proximity with the forsaken vehicle and examining warily the details even peering inside the back seat's broken window until suckling on her lower lip between her pearly ivory, still firm teeth the raw spot of her lip, contemplating the stuffed animal.

Once the former priest shopped for a wedding costume and it was packed in a shopping bag, thereafter he put it in the luggage carrier and pulled off the cab up to the flowerstore, in order to behold Madeleine for awhile and afterwards get back at home.

"_You've given me a true love and ev'ry day I thank you love,__ f__or a feeling that's so new, so inviting, so exciting.__Whenever you are near, I Hear A Symphony__! __A tender melody pulling me closer, closer to your arms! Then suddenly, oo, your lips are touching mine.__A feeling so divine 'til I leave the past behind._" I Hear a Symphony by Supremes was lowly droning on the piano, whereas the Michiganian's spider frail, alabaster fingers were hooked around the book's covers about flowers, plants and gardening, scarcely averting her stare even from the yellow sheets of papers. In the meanwhile, the door swung opened and Madeleine dumped shut the book on the bureau after readjusting her seating posture with crossing her other leg, darting her honey brown pools to the former priest and vaguely beatific, shining smile perched on her rosy-coloured, plump lips momentarily.

"Tim, it's good to see you!" The Michiganian's hand reached for the mug of orange spiced tea, pooling the brittle's material up to the rim, nabbing lazily the handle and lifting up the mug to gulp a tiny sip from the hot liquid. In the meanwhile, the older man approached Madeleine's bureau, his colossal, veiny hands were inserted in his slacks' pockets, thieving an amicable, benevolent smile in return whilst maintain an appropriate eye contact with the young woman. "I've been expecting you so far."

"Hi Maddie! Just a small journey in town for looking for a wedding costume." The young woman ushered with her solely free hand the free seat on the other chair alongside her, subsequently the British compatriot didn't neglect her offer meekly, agreeably.

"That's fantastic! Did you find something that caught your eye?" Elated lisp punctured Madeleine's elation to pay utter attention to the British compatriot's recent news which he's spilling the tea, sipping from the cup of orange-spiced tea, jumpcutting to an appropriate pause. Meantime, her childlikely ecstatic smile brightened, her caramel brown irises were alight by the daylight silver light, filtering the flower store's interior.

"I did, but it's inside the car."

Suddenly lukewarm silence immersed the flower store's interior and the both adults barely daring to interrupt it while the Michiganian was sipping from her cup of orange-spiced tea, her fingers lingering on the porcelain handle. The British aristocrat's cocoa brown orbs flickered up at each corner of the interior, surveying in a scrutiny the minor, almost sightless details glimmering past his gaze.

"I see. Can I see it just for awhile at least?" At the moment, the older man managed to bob his head in a solemn agreement, throughout heaving their frail skeletons from their seats and softly clearing his throat with an inward, dry cough, abrading his voice from rustiness and hoarseness. "Just before your wedding!" Her fingers unwrapped disappointingly around the mug's handle, whereas her roseate, tea-stained cherub lips parted in the scoff, returning the former priest's amiable stare.

"No wonder why I'm not at home right now!" The Michiganian emitted a sharp exhale, coursing fresh oxygen at the top of her brittle, marbled lungs and inhaling nonchalantly, instinctively the pristinely inveigle's flowers and plants fragrances, wafting across their sensitive, flexible nostrils.

"_I'm lost in a world made for you and me.__Oo love me.__Whenever you are near I Hear A Symphony play sweet and tenderly__! __Ev'ry time your lips meet mine my baby.__Baby, baby, I feel a joy within,__d__on't let this feeling end,_"

Once Madeleine and Timothy walked away from the flower store and seeting a foot outdoors, consequently the former priest strolled up to the parked cab's luggage carrier and plugging the key, his pristinely strong, meaty fingers manipulating and working on the silver key with a single click and a few turns unlocking the boot in a jiffy, while the juvenile blonde was accompanying him and maintaining a handful of inches proximity, landing her hazelish-brown pools on the widely opened boot and the former man of the cloth reaching for the packaged wedding costume which was merely neat and suave.

What the former holy man purchased from the wedding shop was neatly groomed and immaculate suit with cleanly oyster-white shirt, beneath the charcoal black blazer. In addition to the suit was scarlet tie, matching superbly with every fragment of the wedlock outfit.

"What are your thoughts on it, Maddie?"In the interim, the British aristocrat pursued for Madeleine's stung widened smoky quartz jewels in awe, admiring the recently purchased wedlock outfit and muffling a reverent gasp, warmly chanting the vowels and syllables. The older man's complacent, candid grin begrimed the rigidly rough textures, cradling the delicate skin of his berry-coloured lips. "Do you like it?"

"It's just pretty flawless." A heavy sigh flushed her nostrils, tuckling with her brittle, spider palish fingers a fistful of attractively glossy, silken strands behind her petite ear, eyeing the outfit whilst nibbling between her ivory, youthfully firm teeth the raw spot of her lower plumpish lip. "With each second I stare at this amazing wedding suit, it grows on me more and more!" What the young lady's vortex of thoughts depicted was the wedlock's costume cladding Timothy's muscles, contouring his masculinity and his anatomy's agitation, affecting his humor to spend the rest of his days with the first ever woman he's ever fallen in love and the last one to share altogether their own inheritance and paraphernalia not only with themselves, but also with their ray of sunshine. "I'm sure you'd bring Jude a heart attack and kicking the bucket once she sees you dressed in this or at least finding your little secret." Merriness accented the juvenile blonde's snicker, scratching her throat after manipulating her hand to reach for the former priest's broad, muscly shoulder and swatting it amicably, featherly.

"I'll try my best to keep in secret this costume until the wedding day, you know!" Even when the Michiganian seized her lips in a pensive, attentive purse, the beaming smile didn't fade away from her parchment, young-looking complexion. "And make sure to not tell her about the costume. I don't want to throw her for a loop, Maddie!" In the interval, the younger lady casted a mischievous, promising wink, managing to nod her head in a solemn agreement, keeping in secret about the wedlock outfit as her cherub, naturally mauve lips popped up.

"No sweat, sir!"

"You're quite jubilant, Maddie!" Even when the former holy man contemplated the high spirits, oozing of the Michiganian and questioning them, all he could think about the emanation of her high spirits were the impending wedding which he hasn't even planned with his rare bird when it's going to be situated. The peculiarity, interweaving with pure merriness, purring through his English lilt, whereas the Michiganian managed a modest, nevertheless, affirmative nod and opting to obscure the shadows, casted on her parchment, youthful complexion to glimmer rigid patterns of darkness due to the slap she earned from her own mentor yesterday. "Why's that so?"

"I'm just ecstatic your wedding is a carrot and stick and quite soon situated, I guess!" The young lady's northern lilt accented her utterance, clicking boldly her tongue and grinding it against the roof of her mouth, emphatically winking at the former priest after retrieving the packaged wedlock suit back in the luggage carrier and shutting the door and locking it. The unpredictable haphazardity in Timothy's quietness startled the young lady, biting her strawberry-coloured, wet tongue and approaching timidly with quiet strides in a couple of footsteps up to the older man after he bowed, ducking his head and crystalline tears welled in his brittle eyelids, blinking the fresh dew and sniveling, solely distinctive for him until Madeleine didn't maintain closer distance with him, acknowledging his upsetness without glimpsing at his face, bedimmed with tear-patched texture, staining the dryness of his facial skin. "Timothy, you okay? I didn't mean to act irrationally, but I'm just gleeful you're trying your best with Jude to build your own future and the relationship you've," Muffling the resonance, scratching Madeleine's throat, she cradled Timothy's head in the palms of her creamy, elvish hands, pursuing for his smoky quartz jewels. "Built together through the weeks and months even the years if that makes sense. I didn't sip my mind I've thought since the beginning of my friendship with both of you how you're going to step at this phase of your relationship." Thereafter the blonde's fingers traced his jaw's curve until grappling his chin, tilting his head to meet his stare, whilst her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips reproduced a lulling tune of shushes.

"She will think I'm joking with her!" Meantime, the blonde's cherub lips zipped in a ruminative purse, harking attentively the former clergyman's tearfulness highlight in his retaliation. "She will consider it done it's for Fools' Day joke." Heavy sigh flushed his nostrils, struggling to inhale the sigh and the oxygen coursing through his breathing organs, biting his lower lip to stifle the snivel and daubing with brittle fingertips the trickling waterfall of tears.

"No, no, of course, she wouldn't disbelieve you, you know damn well, Timothy! We know her damn well and she'd burst in tears if you propose her directly or she finds out about the wedding costume somehow without your knowledge." At the moment, the young woman combed and racked his chestnut, crispily soft hair through her spider alabaster fingers, murmuring the whisper in her Michigan lilt and pressing a tender, feather peck on his temple to provide him warmness, platonic affection and comfort. "Do you think she's sincere when she slapped me?" All of a sudden, the British aristocrat's ducked head snapped tilted, stung widened in shock his cocoa brown embers, blazing perplexion and mild ire, still glimmering the last drying tears, refraining to trickle down on his cheeks. "The day before after we discussed the diary and that suicidal shit. She didn't have any malicious intentions except persuading me how much she despises the eavesdropping and somebody putting their noses in her own damn business."

"I know her meaningfully well! It's against her nature prying and involving yourself somewhere wherever she might not grant you a warm welcome."

Once the front door's ring droned monitorly, all of a sudden the former pious sister of the church disappeared from the second floor after cascading the polished stairway with the infant, swaddled warmly and scooped in his mother's secure, alabaster arms. The humdrum of drumming feminine, docile footsteps against the notoriously creaky stairs kept Frank's wits about Jude's arrival within a handful of seconds.

When the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer stepped beside the front door and freeing one of her arms, in order to turn the rusty key in the keyhole and unlock the door, afterwards it clicked and swung opened at the former policeman. In the interval, the infant's huge, unblemished honey brown irises were fixated on the both middle-aged adults in awe and vaguely beaming at the former policeman.

"Hi!" The both middle-aged adults greeted kindheartedly one another as the blonde stepped aside, in order to give bigger scale of space to the widower, who entered inside the two-story mansion and stripping off the winter pantaletot from his torso. "Welcome back, Frank!" As soon as Frank got rid off the pantaletot and hooked it on the coat hanger, the former licentious nightclub singer shut the front door, whereas her solely free arm bounced and rocked Edward Ralph, eavesdropping incessantly his jubilant, silver-tongued babbles and cooes.

"That's tremendously sweet of ya, Judy! As always!" Meanwhile, they walked inside the kitchen and their shoed pair of feet trampling the tepid flooring and seating on the kitchen table together. The middle-aged woman's mouth opened in a huge grin, cradling her jaw's muscles and flexing them gingerly. "How are ya with the little one?"

"We're fine with my lovely cherub angel!" Assuringly benevolent smile glinted across her spread lips after softening the grin while the former police officer couldn't help but emit a vibrant snicker, lurching in the back of his throat. "Would ya care for a drink or anything to eat during yar stay before the night shift?"

"No, thanks! I just ate and drank a half an hour ago with Andrea and her daughter Cassandra at Andrea's home." Once the widower emphasized the both women's names, the former pious sister of the church quirked a dark, thin eyebrow elegantly and recalling the day before when she met the customer, whose name was Cassandra. "They haven't always been in good terms unless my friend's boyfriend death which took its place yesterday at her house and poisoning himself after mixing bleach and beer together." In the meantime, the Bostonian managed to gnaw between her ivory, still firm for her age front teeth the raw, delicate skin of her lower lip, averting her gaze from Frank for a split second, in order to not fully neglect her ray of sunshine.

"I know! I'm indeed sorry to hear about your friend's boyfriend death and I pray my heart out he's on much better place." A sharp exhale surged fresh oxygen from the top of her fragile lungs, moistening her lips after spiraling her lips in the axis, managing her petite hand to caress warily, dotingly her son's soft, dark hair and combing the hairs between her fingers' knuckles with mild tickle. "Cassandra came into the flower store yesterday and she told me she was buying flowers for her mother." Suddenly the middle-aged man's lapis lazuli pools flickered widened, licking his lips and stifling another mischievous chuckle, dying on his tongue tip. "Blue ones! And she told me why she's exactly buying them."

"Oh, I know that kiddo in blue Cassandra! She's pretty arrogant with her mother about the job she's doing it for like years."

"Are ya trying to tell me," Bitter lump seethed in the former sleazy nightclub singer's throat, throughout the throat muscles constricting in the lacking physical activity and flex, while her only free hand's fingers gently cradled the infant's frail, pudgily tiny fingers. "Cassandra and her mother aren't getting along? Isn't Cassandra's mother something like a drug dealer or a serial killer?"

"Impossible!" Firmness punctured Frank's riposte, enveloped in contradiction's darkness, thick ebony layer of seriousness coating his exclaimation. "She's a hooker and trying her best to survive with the money the clients grant her per an hour." Bittersweetness forcefully grimaced the Bostonian's facial attributes in an armor of steel and distress once she acknowledged the young woman mother's occupation and how morbidly parallel was to Jude's past with the one-night stands, selling her own flesh per an hour for a certain quantity of money to square her striving for survival. A disappointed frown flattened downward her cherub lips at last. "But to assure ya, Judy, she isn't a horrible person and whatever ya may picture behind her notorious identity," In the interim, Jude lingered her caramel brown pools on Frank's magnificently truthful, trustworthy lapis lazuli pools. Sheer abhorrence flaming her indiscernibly ebony pupils once acknowledging Andrea's infamous occupation.

"No wonder why they aren't getting along as a mother and a daughter, Frank!"

"Judy," All of a sudden, the security guard spotlighted his old friend's name with sharpness, puncturing his exclaimation, whilst Judy furrowed her dark, thin eyebrows momentarily and squinting up at her ex-employee, gulping a salty lump in the back of her throat with an ease. "Ya used to be in the same condition as Andrea until ya joined St. Andrew's church and became a nun, right?" She managed to bob her head in a strong, agreeable agreement as she glanced down at the baby, checking on him and rocking it to drift off asleep sooner than later, whereas his serene cooes and babbles, unzipping his cherub baby-pinkish lips. "Right?" Even when the former holy woman was distracted with her baby son, the security guard slightly nagged, sharpness accentuating the enquiry.

"That's right! But I just," Stutter dripped from her lips, her tongue hesitantly conjugating the words and constructing a proper utterance flawlessly, abrading with pure smoothness in her northern lilt.

"Just what?"

Overstraining silence arched between the both adults which they've endured for a half a minute without peeling a single word, unzipping their mouths with exception the soundtrack of silver-tongued, cheerful cooes and babbles, playing on a loop in the kitchen's background. The heart rates increased rapidly, unrealistically affecting the middle-aged woman's flimsy heart drums in her chest and pulsations into her ears. At the moment, Frank moistened his pale-pinkish lips after twirling his tongue to lick them swiftly, surreptitiously.

What it flabbergasted the former devotional member of the clergy was that Andrea who just grieves over her boyfriend's loss was her business was involved in selling her own body for a certain sum of money, in order to survive somehow. Nevertheless, Judy wasn't very fond of ladies whether younger or older who reminded her about the somber fragments of her past's puzzle which they share in common altogether.

"I'm just not very fond of ladies whether girls or women, who're finely sharing this in common with me. I don't want to remember about that filth and feeling muddy ever again."

"Judy, since when ya became that judgmental?" The widower's berry-coloured, soft as velvet lips parted in the rejoinder's scoff, deflating critically the former sister of the church even when allusions of sarcasm darkened his enquiry. "I perfectly comprehend what ya have been through like fifteen years ago or so and mudding yar path to accomplish peace with yourself, however," Stoicness contoured Jude's facial features to refrain the sobs to break her facial expression in a jiffy and narrowing her eyebrows whilst tilting meekly, humbly her head to maintain a stable eye contact with Frank. "Everything will be fine! Everything is fine! I've never judged ya, based on yar past and whatever shit ya have been through." Suddenly he protracted one of his arms due to his effacious sagacity, highlighting his attributes and body language mannerism, his mammoth, smooth hand rubbing Judy's shoulder blade smoothily feather, tenderly. "It's so wrong considering Andrea as an inferior creature even when ya have never spoken to her unlike her daughter."

Shortly after Cassandra left work and came back at home, she hasn't left her bedroom which she shared it with her husband David, whereas David was in the grocery store and Andrea was sitting on her round, well-carved knees, brushing the carpeted flooring of the living room, transfixing her midnight black jewels on Kathy and Jack who were with their rag dolls. Silvery light sifted in the living room, penetrating through the widely opened curtains of the large-sized window.

Even when the prostitute attempted to spend the rest of the day as a solemnly took vow without pouring a heavy rain of twin chubby tears, staining her facial skin and bursting out in uncontrollable sobs and distract herself by spending more time with her grandchildren, overwhelmness over Harry's demise still inundated her ocean of thoughts, unable to escape the sane's madness on her own.

"How was school today, sweethearts?" Andrea's posed question resuscitated her grandchildren's vast enthusiasm, flickering up their big round eyes at her to meet her platonically loving gaze, offering her a benevolently guiltless, childlike smile, flourishing upon their mouths. Meantime, her dainty fingers were resting on her mid-thighs, admiring Jack and Kathy's fellowship, expressed platonically as a brother and a sister.

"It was good, Nana!" The little girl drew in a scooped embrace her favorite stuffed doll, swaddled warmly, cozily in her pudgy arms, whereas Andrea heaved a heavy, elated sigh, coursing its oxygen from the top of her brittle lungs, returning her grandchildren's benevolently unblemished smiles with a radiant, sympathetic, tattoed on her yet youthful, parchment complexion. "Our teacher doesn't give us a lot of homework."

"That's amazing!" Beaming, girlishly ablaze giggle grinded on her tongue and dripping from her mouth, whilst tuckling a fistful of silken aureate strands behind her petite, sensitive ear. "Spill the tea about the teachers! Aren't they just wonderful?"

"They're eventually are except for our physical education one!" Again, the middle-aged lady's radiant, woefully optimistic smile darkened spread across her plumpish, naturally mauve lips, her fingertips tracing gingerly, idly her well-carved cheekbone, still all ears to hearkening Jack and Kathy's daily life stories about their school, teachers and homework. The little girl didn't avert her stare from her grandmother, sanguinely healthy blush tinging her chubby, hypodermically seeded with soft baby fat cheeks at the thought of her least favorite teacher.

"What about her, honey? Is she mean or something?"

"Very mean!" The young boy's sharpness in his snap indicated his fatalistic seriousness, shooting an expressiveless gawk at the single motherwith an eerie flat line, smeared across his full profile. "She's bugging me off to bones and doesn't allow me to play with my sister except the boring football."

"Well, I'll try my best to keep in touch with Ms. Giligan, nevertheless, just try your best to not frustrate that old hag, because it's going to be when the pigs fly to stop her anger, solely if you don't bug her off!" Her trembling, palish fingers managed to lazily reach for Kathy and Jack's crispily soft hairs to caress and stroke them, dedicating her entire affection and selflessness to them, providing them the necessary consolation, love and warmness as two of her most beloved people, filling a surrealistically humongous room in her heart. "We'll be good if you just don't play any games with your physical education teacher and just do your own job!"

"Mhm, you're absolutely right, Nana!" The symphony of the youngsters' mirth, accentuating their timbres in unison tingled angelic hymns to the prostitute. "What's mattering with mom?"

"I'm certain something is bothering her but as soon as I acknowledge what exactly bothers her," Meanwhile, her dainty, alabaster fingers yet lingered on the youngsters' satin heads, admiring the youthful softness of their hairs, squinting up her indiscernible midnight black orbs at them. "Everything is going to be fine! It's going to be a serious one. So you better stay here and play with each other!" Shortly after manipulating her dainty fingers to comb and rake delicately their satin heads, thus the single mother got up from the carpeted flooring and aimed to Cassandra's bedroom, striding casually and managing to fashion her hand in a balled fist, in order to rap on the door a handful of times to draw her daughter's attention, keeping her wits about the imminent moment to welcome one more uninvited guest in the room. "Cassandra! Sweetheart! May I come?" Sharp exhale surged at the top of Andrea's lungs, glancing down at her shuffled feet, uneasily fidgeting her fingers after slithering from the door's wooden material downward to the door handle.

No answer, nor anything vouched and approved the blonde's impending destination visit, whereas her front yellowed teeth nipped the raw, delicate skin of her lower plumpish lip. Then the bedroom's door swung opened bashfully and peaking askew once the hooker stepped inside, noticing her daughter seating on the edge of the king-sized bed with turned back, hardly maintaining an eye contact.

In the interim, the brunette hesitantly didn't even move a single muscle, nor turning her back to face the recent visitor in the room which she shared it with her husband David. Her quivering vanilla hands were perched on her lap, her swan as flute stings fingers snatching her woolen ocean blue skirt, grazing with the pads of her fingers the rigid fabric, snorting an inward sniffle, ducking her head, in order to not allow anybody notice her tear-stained, porcelain complexion.

"Cassandra, tell me what's wrong! What kind of disgrace I've been for you all over again?" What the older woman's authoratitative rhetorical posed question begged for was for the brunette's response immediately, her feminine, meekly subtle footsteps stumping silently against the carpeted flooring in a monotonous choir. "Just tell me what bothers you, at least!" Timidness spotlighted the middle-aged lady's reprimand after seating sheepishly alongside her only child's edge of the king-sized bed, barely averting her stare from the ducked head. "It will be just between both of us. Nobody will be hurt. The kids won't know, because they're quite young to be messed up in such trashy mess." The quietness, swaddling in a sheer chilliness stretched between Andrea and Cassandra, while Andrea ushered one of her hands to reach for Cassandra's shoulder blade, consequently kneading gently, consolingly the flesh beneath the rough sweater's fabric and her other hand reaching for one of her quivering hands to yank them in a tight, soothing grip. "If you want me out of the room, I'll flee in a New York minute."

"I thought at first you poisoned your boyfriend by mixing the bleach with beer, but once your old friend Gus, Nikita and Lydia saw me on my workplace, in case, after dealing with Harry's corpse and the dirty job was done," The young lady's Vermont lilt accented her tearful voice, she surreptitiously melted in the prostitute's comforting hand squeeze and shoulder blade massage, biting her lip to mute another sob to break her facial expression, whilst the prostitute was all ears, ruefully beaming. At the moment, the older lady's heart sunk in oblivion and heartbreak at the false charge as if she's the one to envenom her ex-boyfriend and succumb in its toxicity, overflowing in Harry's body. Due to the fact, Cassandra scarcely trusted and believed her own daughter, subsequently it lead her to picture galore of scenarios and comteplating inwardly her mother in ominous situations with malicious intentions of harming other people's lives. "I realized it wasn't your fault at all. You were deeply asleep and he mixed the bleach with his own beer and you woke up on the morning after next to his cold corpse. I don't know why, but I'm not accusing you to be the one who's responsible for his death. I'd never consider you innocent unless if it's was Gus, Lydia or Nikita. It's the only case where I truly believe you're simply blameless." All of a sudden, the young woman's facial expression broke in a sob, reclining on the blonde's shoulder, whereas Andrea managed to cradle her face after one of her hands maneuvered to reach for her chin and tilting her head. Meanwhile, Cassandra fluttered her eyelids shut in tiny slits, allowing the rich stream of twin obese tears trickle down on her cheeks.

"At least you believe me or them that I'm completely innocent! However, I'd never dare to poison or commit homicide in the name of my reputation or yours."

"I was completely wrong in the whole time. Since the beginning of that saga. Since the beginning of my childhood for distancing my own ass from you to not being scoffed by my peers that my mother is selling her own body to provide for us something sufficiently affordable." Andrea daubed with the pad of her swan thumb the crystalline, ugly tear, dripping from her daughter's lower eyelid, lulling shush in a whisper.

"Do not cry, my love! Do not cry! I'm planning to work whether in the library as a librarian or otherwise in Jude and her protégé's flower store, selling plants and flowers!"

"Are you serious?" Suddenly the young lady's eyelids snapped opened like blinds, squinting up her dark embers at the hooker, tears rimming yet in the pools.

"I'm deadly serious. More than anything! I'd do it for you and for myself," Thereafter Andrea threw her both alabaster, lean arms around Cassandra's middle, scooping her in a kindhearted, firm hug, absorbing mutual warmness, muffling her velvety Wisconsin lilt. "Think twice how blissful we're going to be from now on even when I'm trying to cope with Harry's death." Meantime, Cassandra buried her tear-stained, parchment face in the crook of the Wisconsian's arm, drenching her blazer with her own uglily sticky heavy rain of tears. "Our reputations will be recovering from everything especially mine. It's blemished with the filth of the current occupation which doesn't appeal me anymore." Heavy sigh flushed her chest, the heart drums throbbing against Cassandra's brittle ribcage in synchronicity. "Why you're still crying? What tears you down?"

"I'm deeply regretting for those years when I tried my best to avoid you even kick you out of my life and everywhere even keeping Kathy and Jack away from you!" Cassandra found her own flimsy heart tearing off as an extravagant cloth on thousand of glassy pieces, swamping her ribcage's steel armor with bittersweetness due to her haughtiness and contempting selfishness to neglect Andrea through the years, in order to not ruin her own reputation or her family's at least. Furthermore, Andrea wasn't like in her twenties to rely on the free lifestyle's inflammation anymore and sooner or later her days may be reckoned. Briefly, it might be even the hooker's final day breathing, exhaling and inhaling, moving any muscle, manipulating her bones and peeling a word which might imprint to the last people who're going to eventually behold her just before the divine power numbers and pages up the book of her life. "I'm tremendously...tremendously sorry for everything, mom! I know how much I don't deserve your forgiveness and everything you did for my fucking sake and I was just giving you a cold shoulder."

"Of course, you will be forgiven, Cassandra! I'm glad you've matured enough to understand that no matter if I'm the president of the United States, "The uncontrollable, impulsive sobs made Andrea shrug her dainty shoulder until they broke off the embrace to admire one another's facial attributes and vaguely sympathetic smile was inked on the older lady's face, brightening scintillatingly her facial attributes. "The meanest nun, the clumsiest employee in a factory or the most infamous hooker in town, you're part of me and you've still a hope to spend even your final moments with me until my last breath. You're my favorite one of a kind baby girl and you're still my baby girl even if you're in your twenties. "

"I know but I'm still deeply regretting for my stupidity and selfishness even ego to avoid anything against our family." In the meanwhile, the brunette numbed series of fugly sobs by nibbling her upper plumpish, roseate lip with reluctance. "I'm a coward!" Asperity foregrounded the fugly nickname snorting a sniffle, her nostrils struggling to inhale adequately the fresh lilacs' fragrance. "I'm an incarnat-"

"You aren't a coward, Cassandra! You aren't." All of a sudden, the single mother snapped at her daughter, cutting her off curtly with strictness, foregrounding her optimism, cusping with the realism and plastering dryly the last drying rain of tears, soaking the brunette's alabaster, chubby cheeks with delicate fingertips. "Don't you ever dare calling yourself a coward or something else that isn't even associated with your true self! Everybody ain't a saint, honey!"

\- _A Several Hours or So_ -

After the former pious members of the church had a dinner with their own ray of sunshine and calling Madeleine to babysit their love child, in order to Timothy to surprise his own rare bird by pulling the cab to a godforsaken, sheathing in its ancient remnants and ruins, it didn't take them longer than an hour for Timothy to pull off the cab up to one of the desolated, formerly functioning institution's façade, located in the woods.

As soon as they hopped out of the vehicle and they were equipped with letter opener, flashlight and a few remarkable items for their abandoned building's journey, what the former aspiring Monsignor instructed was his girlfriend to walk behind him and escorting him, whereas he was the one leading their small, humble group inside the former hospital's remnant which may be a possible home for homeless strayers, drug dealers and drug addicts even for psychotic murders, kidnappers and molesters. Moreover, the building was thirteen floor-clad and their only light source was a flashlight, gleaming at certain target to illuminate the pitch-black darkness, preventing them from beholding anything clearly.

Within a quarter an hour after towering the floors' stairs and arriving on the roof of the abandoned former hospital which was built in the late 90s of the previous decade and being dilapidatingly desolated in the mid-fifties, due to the lacking staff members to take care of the patients from newborns up to seniors, expecting their final moments on their death beds. Last but not least, the former facility is also a home of the patients' ghosts, lurking in the darkest corners and seeking revenge from the uninvitied guests for the unrequited peace whether due to the one of the most sadtistic doctors who used to cure them or their corpses being stored in the morgue days or weeks later after their unpredictable demise. There were cornucopia of urban legends about the desolated place which speculated once somebody has stepped inside the remnants, consequently bad luck with something haphazard befalling in their lives whether losing somebody beloved, being involved in a road accident, losing their property and fortune or anything else that might speak the inflammatory language of trouble.

"What's this place?" It wasn't the initial, nor the last time which the former devotional woman of the cloth was posing the same question, excessively tingling a featureless tunes into the former ambitious Monsignor's flexible ears, whereas their heavy footsteps drummed against the stone, dilapidating stairs, leading to the roof after exhausting the muscles and bones with excessive physical pressure and heavily inhaling the reek of drugs, tobaccos, garbage, human waste and strong liquor, wafting across their vulnerable nostrils. In the meantime, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's long, slim as piano keys fingers trembled whilst the gentle winter zephyr was fogging and playing with their exposed fleshes.

"It's a secret, my rare bird!" When the both adults escalated the last stairs and set a foot on the roof after stomping swarm of garbage, butts of smoked cigarettes and galore of remnants, they maintained scarcely an inch proximity, distancing their figures as the moonlight dimly gleamed and the flashlight clicked turned off. Notwithstanding the childlike, strong-willed curiosity of the Bostonian, the former clergyman didn't want to rush with the secrets and surprises by exposing them unless the special moment emerges.

"No shit with that abandoned hospital's shit and taking me somewhere where we might die in a New York minute if ya consider that's the-"

"Sh, shh, Jude! We aren't here to die. You haven't even heard my story's version." After muffling Jude with a forefinger, grazing her cherub, naturally mauve lips and chanting a lull to keep her quiet without an ado, she managed to roll her hazelish-brown pools emphatically, dramatically.

"What story?" Salty lump bubbled up in her throat and subsequently she maneuvered her throat muscles to flex with a gulp, exhaling abruptly, while pursing her lusciously plump lips, ogling her hazelish-brown irises at the younger man with nocturnal's shadow casted on his facial skin as a curtain.

"I know you won't take me serious at all, but," Suddenly one of his colossal, veiny hands fumbled in his slacks' pocket until something velvety was grazed by his brittle fingertips and snatching it in a balled fist, attracting his girlfriend's attention with a glance for a split second. "But I've always thought about the tough times we had together like that jealousy over that serial killer stuff, Maddie's overprotective nature over us as partners and the nightmares and mental breakdowns which weren't your fault at all. Sometimes I'm a burden for you or at least I feel like, however, I'll never give up fighting for you and for what's the right, Jude!" Meantime, crystal, translucent tears swamped the Bostonian's frequently blinking in choir eyelids, stifling an inward sob to reproduce its own ode. "Jude! Thanks to everything we've been through and fighting for you and our family, I've never stopped loving you! You're a celestial creature and my rare bird since the day I laid my eyes on you and found out how pearly unique you're eventually!" What the former licentious nightclub singer sensed was the anticipating heart attack to hit her shortly after her boyfriend's confession, alluding a proposal.

"Are you truly being honest with me before having a heart attack?"

"Needless to explain myself, sweetheart!" The honeyed timbre, accentuating the former holy man's somber, pearly snicker, lingering on his tongue brought a radiant, luscious smile, spread across the blonde's rosy-coloured lips as if her honey brown pools were alight at her lover's honesty. "Jude, you're my rare bird, that's true! It's undeniable how much I deeply regret for putting you through the mess which you don't deserve! You're the first ever and last woman I want to spend the eternity with! My only universe, my world, the glistening stars in the most starless, darkest sky and the love of my life, the most gorgeous woman I've ever laid eyes on," In the interval, Judy daubed subtly the drizzle of tears with fingertips after swallowing hard during the confession, approaching her lover with shy steps, finding herself molting in his sincerity. "Judy Martin Howard, will you marry me and spend the eternity with me?" He kneeled beside her, opening the crimson velvet box with the proposal ring which wasn't enormous, nor excessively compact.

"Ya don't have any idea how much I want to spend the eternity with you, Timothy! You're the sweetest and the best thing has ever happened to me along with Edward and the fresh start we've started together." After the ring slipped on her finger, grazing the delicate skin with smoothness, throughout she threw her alabaster, lean arms around his upper back, encircling him in a tight, warm hug, whilst sensing mammoth, secure hands securing her middle and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "I will marry you at any cost and thank ya for being always next to me even when I've been through the biggest mess in my life! And the ring is undeniably gorgeous but not as gorgeous as ya, my love!"

Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for postponing with the updates and the sloppy chapter, nevertheless, here we go with the updates finally and I opted to update it as soon as possible!

What do you think about the proposal? Do you think Maddie is going to be forgiven by Jude about the slap? Do you think Jude and Timothy's wedding is coming soon?

I hope you liked and enjoyed the chapter! :)


	24. Lord of All Hopefulness

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Stay away from our children! Cat got your tongue? What are you waiting for? Go!"_

_"You think you can give us the frights of our lives? Think about-"_

"_Just minutes ago a car explosion situates in the middle of the road in central Vermont's countryside, in fact, the bomb was planted in the luggage carrier of the car just minutes before the explosion! __The victims of the car explosion are two as they're both females. A woman in the beginning of her fifties and one of her grandchildren, presumably an elementary school student! Shortly after the woman loses and grieves over her son's death. __The incident happens just after the middle-aged woman finishes her shift as a booking agent in the hotel and a day after visiting her son in the morgue. Last but not least, the perpetrator is still unknown!_"

_"I'll be right back, sweetheart! Stay here and relax!"_

_"You're quite jubilant, Maddie! Why's that so?"_

_"I'm just ecstatic your wedding is a carrot and stick and quite soon situated, I guess! Timothy, you okay? I didn't mean to act irrationally, but I'm just gleeful you're trying your best with Jude to build your own future and the relationship you've built together through the weeks and months even the years if that makes sense. I didn't sip my mind I've thought since the beginning of my friendship with both of you how you're going to step at this phase of your relationship."_

_"No, thanks! I just ate and drank a half an hour ago with Andrea and her daughter Cassandra at Andrea's home. They haven't always been in good terms unless my friend's boyfriend death which took its place yesterday at her house and poisoning himself after mixing bleach and beer together." _

_"I know! I'm indeed sorry to hear about your friend's boyfriend death and I pray my heart out he's on much better place. Cassandra came into the flower store yesterday and she told me she was buying flowers for her mother. Blue ones! And she told me why she's exactly buying them."_

_"I thought at first you poisoned your boyfriend by mixing the bleach with beer, but once your old friend Gus, Nikita and Lydia saw me on my workplace, in case, after dealing with Harry's corpse and the dirty job was done I realized it wasn't your fault at all. You were deeply asleep and he mixed the bleach with his own beer and you woke up on the morning after next to his cold corpse. I don't know why, but I'm not accusing you to be the one who's responsible for his death. I'd never consider you innocent unless if it's was Gus, Lydia or Nikita. It's the only case where I truly believe you're simply blameless."_

_"At least you believe me or them that I'm completely innocent! However, I'd never dare to poison or commit homicide in the name of my reputation or yours."_

_"What story?" _

_"I know you won't take me serious at all, but...but I've always thought about the tough times we had together like that jealousy over that serial killer stuff, Maddie's overprotective nature over us as partners and the nightmares and mental breakdowns which weren't your fault at all. Sometimes I'm a burden for you or at least I feel like, however, I'll never give up fighting for you and for what's the right, Jude! Jude! Thanks to everything we've been through and fighting for you and our family, I've never stopped loving you! You're a celestial creature and my rare bird since the day I laid my eyes on you and found out how pearly unique you're eventually!"_

"Yar blowmindingly unbelievable, my love!" At the moment, the former pious members of the clergy were seating on the partly broken twain of chairs on the roof of the cursed former functioning facility, whilst Jude was snuggled warmly, soothingly in her fiance's secure, muscly arms, securing her middle as her head reclined on his scrafed neck. What the former pious members of the clergy didn't want was fleeing the former functioning facility just shortly after the marriage proposal, in order to spend another bewitching night with abundance of adventorous, dynamic moments awaiting them on their path and afterwards harvesting the luxurious crop of memories, recollected from the madcap idea of their proposal, situated nowhere else than on the bare roof of an abandoned hospital. Even when Madeleine would be lethally concerned over the couple's absence for hours and Edward Ralph fussing over his parents' absence and not earning a bedtime lullaby and tender kiss, the couple deemed that they deserved to spend some time together on their own, whilst engaging the Michiganian to look after their ray of sunshine. The lacking time for the ardous efforts to repair their once toxic relationship with ten years age gap wasn't a child's play for Jude and Timothy at all. "This proposal in an abanbonded hospital especially on the roof is just," The former pious holy woman molted in nuzzle which her fiancé managed to brush his nosetip gently against the top of her head, chewing on her lower plumpish lip, hedonistic thick invincible barriers of warmness battered mutually to share the myriad of heat which their bare skin could bear under the bedsheets. "Wow! I thought that was an attempt to kick the bucket but I was completely wrong."

"The dangerous things are undeniably delicious as the forbidden fruit, my Jude!" Even when the lonely couple who were the sole uneven visitors of the godforsaken, dilapidating former hospital which also hinted to be a former mental hospital for criminally insane due to the abundance of half-filled-clad syringes and emptied to edges alongside with former patients' files, scattered overally the remnants and already used supplies, eerily indicating the former facility's sinisterness which casted diabolic shadows of the past and still haunting the grandiose façade.

The suddenness of the lethal hush which was pitched by the quiet, inward inhales and exhales of the former members of the clergy tingled its own ode into their ears. What Judy was absorbed at the moment just shortly landing her gaze on one of the patient filles, instantly detecting the former criminally insane's file, embroidenered old black and white mugshot, paging up on the top of the file ushered her front ivory teeth to nibble between them the raw spot of her lower lip to stifle the crafted vowels and syllables, lurching on her tongue. "Jude?" The initial attempt of the former aspiring Monsignor to attract his lover's attention the velvety, English lilt accentuating her pleasingly rhythmical short name was a total failure for him, embarrassingly powdered his well-sculptured, chubby cheeks with rubicund blush, crawling with its unbearable heat underneath his facial skin. One of his hands opted to reach for her long mop of glossy old Hollywood aureate tresses, framing her round, full profile and finger a fistful of tresses intentionally, emphatically. "Is anything wrong, rare bird?" Then he drew his face closer to her to study her facial attributes complexly in other angle, noting the blonde was absorbed to the ground oddly, whereas his pleasantly warm, mint breath fanning a mild breeze across her facial attributes.

"I think I found something which I haven't expected." All of a sudden, grunt of disappointment slipped from the younger man's tongue when the older woman released one of her arms from the scooped snuggle, in order to snatch the patient file from the smeared in filth, dumped garbage and remnants ground. Once her spider palish fingers managed to lug up the flimsily mucky large-sized sheet of paper with one of the former patients' biography from their names and birth places to a brief biography about their childhood, adolescence and nowadays, depending on their age as well. Narrowing her hazelish-brown gemstones at the sheet of paper and drawing it to the scooped snuggle also engrossed the British compatriot's attention promptly, resting his sharp jaw on the top of Jude's dainty shoulder blade. "What the hell is this?" Scanning in peruse warily the typed text with oiled manuscript, bolding the letters that constructed each word from top to the bottom, the former devotional members of the church were far from tepid to inspect partly of the prominent remnants' notion.

"I didn't see that coming." Once his smoky quartz jewels landed on the mugshot, it eerily demonstrated in a perpendicular angle the familiar face in his younger years. It was Cayden when he was in his late 20s and what it morbidly startled the couple was that they haven't presumed to find anything else as part of Cayden's grim character and most of all past, associated with his inhumane atrocities, morality and manners. "That prick used to be a looney." After perusing the very first paragraphs which included full name, birthday, birth place, blood type and family members were already scanned and obviously imprinted their train of thoughts. "His birth town is actually Monroe, Louisana!" Underlining verbally one of the essential information about the infamous serial killer dripped from the British compatriot's mouth, moistening his lips after ushering his strawberry-coloured tongue playfully to twirl in the exact apex his lower and upper cherub, baby-pinkish lips. "Isn't he associated with the witches and Coven?" What it aroused his childlike curiosity was questioning whether if the infamous serial killer was associated somehow and connected with the witches and their Coven in New Orleans even though his birthplace's small city has nothing to do with the glamorous New Orleans.

"Cut the crap, sweetheart! The witches are in New Orleans, not in Monroe! Jesus Timothy!" A heavy, mocking sigh flushed her nostrils after the fresh oxygen coursed onward her chest, rolling her eyes pretty dramatically and her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips curled in the scoff that was constructed in the final utterance. "But anyway I can see that he's two children from the same ex-wife who was murdered by him and her skeleton was used for Halloween decoration. Andy is sent in an orphanage during his father's stay in Highway Vermont mental hospital for criminally insane." What it beyond mesmerized with myriad of disgust and nausea swamping the pit of her stomach at the feeble prospect of the younger Cayden's black and white mugshot, embroidenered on the top of his file was his neatly spiked hair wasn't pigmented with modicum of hoary hairs at all. It was clearly dark and his smoky quartz gemstones were eerily transfixed at the camera's direction on the readily old mugshot which was certainly snapped circa the early 50s just before the facility was shut down at last. A rigidly shapeless, hideous patient jumpsuit was bone-clad to the Italian compatriot's muscles by judging his shoulders. An eerie flat line brushed across his pale, glittering chappedly lips which weren't expressive at all. Neither sorrow, nor mirth. Blurring anything which was clearly foreign for every licentious offender even a looney. Last but not least, stubble was mapping his sharp, bulky jaw line elegantly and appealingly.

"He's Capricorn, who likes smoking and drinking whiskey even wearing dark clothes, indicating his dangerousness and rogue character." Quirk creased past the former pious sister of the church's forehead, arching quizzically an eyebrow once the impending zodiac sign after her birth star sign was mentioned, manipulating her throat muscles steadily and insistingly to gulp hard the salty lump in her throat. "And there isn't any information about his son Andy except he's sent in an orphanage just when his father was being institutionalized and Martha, Andy's twin was given to Sebastian, Cayden's older brother."

"No wonder why I can't stand Capricorns! The same old nasty manipulators!" Mild irony danced in her rhymes, rolling her eyelids spirally, her fingertips steadily gripping the frail sheet of paper.

"The Capricorns have always been weirdos, in my humble opinion!" After the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer manipulated a monotonous frequent click of her berry-coloured, wet tongue to grind against the roof of her mouth, she squinted back at her fiancé with a slyly ironic smirk, blurring the rough and smooth textures of ire and sorrow.

"Weirdos?" Meantime, the British aristocrat managed to bob his head in solemn agreement, reaffirming his own words whilst returning the smirk with a sympathetic, soft smile, curling upon his baby-pinkish, plump lips. "Do ya like those motherfuckers? Sharpness punctured in her serious enquiry, nipping between her ivory front teeth the raw spot of her lower naturally mauve lip.

"Jude!" Vague blush tinged the former holy man's cherub, well-carved cheeks with licentious powder of healthily rufescent blush, perfusing his twin cheeks with blistering heat creeping beneath his facial skin, nuzzling into her tresses gently to inhale the scintillating, tempting fragrance of gardenias. Even when they had different opinions on a certain star sign, he didn't like the cuss she's dedicated to the Capricorns as if they're all the same. "Not every Capricorn is as manipulative and horrible as Cayden!"

"I really like it when ya start calling me Jude instead of keeping on with the business." In the interim, the middle-aged lady's plumpish, naturally roseate lips parted in the jeer, oozing of subtle sarcasm and reclining onto her boyfriend's toned, muscular chest. "But the majority of the Capricorns I've met in my life are just," Pause muted her vowels and syllables whilst emitting a sharp exhale, indicating her graveness in expressing her own opinion, twisting her facial expression in grimace, reluctant to be emotionless. "Meh! Let's move on what's there to spill as drops from the tea about that prick." Insistance accented her utterance as they were absorbed in the patient file, transfixing their gazes on each word, each paragraph, portraying the psychopath's bio, in order to not continue the chaotic heated debates just shortly after proposal even when the older woman was fond of taunting her lover. "Okay so,"

"It says that his son wasn't very fond of his father's secretive nature for hiding the homicides he's committed and his sadism towards women except his daughter Martha."

"That means his son Andy is some kind of a good guy, right?"

"Indeed!" In the meanwhile, the British compatriot managed to affirm the inquiry with a modest, affirmative nod until a foreign sound, blending with the background noise caught the couple off guard, tingling unfamiliar, peculiar tunes into their ears and averting their gazes from the file, in order to peer onward, glimpsing at the stairway leading to the thirteenth floor, in case if anybody has entered in the godforsaken, eerily dilapidating façade of the former mental hospital. "What's that?"

"I really can't tell except," All of a sudden, the former religious woman of the cloth pursued for her fiance's coffee brown embers to link them after acknowledging verbally the unfamiliar background noise, pitching the lethal silence."That might be something delusional, in my opinion!" Then she manipulated to flex her jaw and zipping her naturally mauve lips in a thoughtful, attentive purse.

"Probably you're right! And in the file says that it was issued around 13th of January, 1953, besides the date of his escape is yet unknown or undocumented anywhere."

"Because that smartass bastard escaped the asylum somewhen in the spring, I guess!"

"No wonder how manipulative he became and developed his intelligence through the years!" Lisp was dancing forward and backward in the younger man's throat, his fingertips clawing his girlfriend's slim waist and admiring the youthful swan curve of her lower abdomen. "And the reason he's committed to Highway Vermont Mental Hospital was the mass massacre of teenage girls while having pyjama party in a house, somewhere in the highlands of Vermont."

"Ha! Has this little," The blonde shrugged timidly her dainty shoulders at the hair-rising prologue of the psychopath's imprisonment in Highway Vermont, her delicate fingers trembling whilst opting to grasp the patient file, apprehension was written overally across her facial attributes and indicating her pure abhorrence and stark nausea pooling the pit of her stomach. "Disgusting rassholic bastard lost his mind to be after underaged girls?"

"It says according to the law that Vermont's age of consent is sixteen."

"It doesn't matter if they're fricking sixty years old or sixteen, that psycho hasn't got the damn right to touch them without their fucking consent. They can beneficially sue him for attempted rape!"

"Well, he's done with the dirty work just after killing eleven girls who were approximately sixteen years old!"

-_ Flashback_ -

\- _14th of January, 1953_ -

_The mental institution, located somewhere in Vermont's peaceful outskirts with the esthetically winter vista was a breathtaking eye candy for every inquisitive viewer to discover the compact areas with a handful of legally built façades per a several yards. Severe blizzard pelted down with its tiny marbled, delicate snowflakes dancing downward to blanket and swaddling glacially everything with modicum of snow. The nocturnal early January vista was darkened with casted nocturnal shadows, overally dimming and the sky painted with somber nuances of the gorgeous midnight black._

_Just a day after the authorities caught the young psychopath, who was involved in and the leader and the only one who would do such atrocity. Murdering a horde of sixteen-year-olds young ladies in a highland house during their pajama party which took its place in the emptied highland property a few days ago and the authorities persistently investigated every petty detail, every room even the compact yard of the two-story cabin._

_Just a day after Cayden was institutuionalized in Highway Vermont Mental Hospital for cure and being charged of committing homicide towards eleven teenage girls in one of the early January nights, besides his son Andy was sent in an orphanage._

_The days seemed to elapse slower than a herd of strangers, crossing the streets and jostling in hurry._

_Series of mugshots were taken of the Italian compatriot and bathing in the sweltering liquid of the bathtub, sanguining his epidermis due to the high temperature of the water and soothingly sedating his bones and muscles to relax. Thereafter he was donned in a navy blue jumpsuit, pairing with charcoal black sweater beneath his jumpsuit and charcoal black leather boots, shoing his big feet._

_The lunatics weren't very fond of him, so as the staff members weren't. They contemplated him in the prospect of mockery especially some hordes of lunatics, who didn't have anything else to do except seating in the middle of the common room and parting their lips in scoffing retaliations._

_The rich soundtrack of half-hearted snickers, heavy footsteps and chats pitched the common room, whilst the Italian compatriot was sitting in the corner with his platter of dinner meal which contained a mushroom soup, freshly baked pita and a slice of Lamington cake which was oddly baked and cooked in the American kitchens especially the northern states. It was already passing seven o'clock and it was high time for the patients to have their dinner meals served on the tables they'd have supper._

_"Look at that bastard!" An older man with burly body structure and hefty muscles indicated beneath his outfit, looking far from shockingly ratty with his impressive anatomy in his late thirties with freshly and neatly shaved head pointed with a forefinger mockingly at the dark-haired gentleman. "Eating all alone victoriously!" The mockery didn't stop in a halt whilst the burly man narrowed his jet-black gemstoned at the infamous serial killer, who was scooping a mouthful of the mushroom soup in his silver spoon, grasped with a few fingers and fingertips supporting the eating tool to not lose its own balance._

_"It looks like the ghosts of those luscious teen girls are making him a great company, you know!" The Hispanic younger man nudged with an elbow mischievously his pal, balefully baring his teeth in the huge grin, decorating his exquisitely tanned complexion. "He thinks of their beautiful youthful faces and perhaps pleasuring each other." Eventually the Hispanic gentleman was in his mid-20s and being housed in the madhouse for kidnapping and molesting underaged ladies which formulated his criminal history, debuting in his early twenties even though he's been arrested a handful of times and escaping efficiently the authorities' vicious claws. Furthermore, Ross Marquez wasn't well-educated man and his family are Mexican emigrants who weren't content with their country's recommending conditions for the families with galore of children. Last but not least, Ross possessed slender body built with vague muscles, contouring and spotlighting his youthful masculinity and his lion mane of disheveled jet-black unruly strands were framing his square, full profile with his indiscernible chocolate brown irises, leaning to midnight black and his bronze tanned skin tone highlighting interestingly his fresh masculinity and ageless facial attributes. "Cayden is the black sheep how I think, Wayne Scott!"_

_"I think it's good time to mess with that little brat with a bastard son who's now in an orphanage. What a stupid son of the bitch, Ross!" Wayne manipulated his mammoth, stiff and veiny hand to pat friendly, teasingly the Latino gentleman on his broad, leanly muscly shoulder, whilst leaning his head on his shoulder after the amicable pat. What it didn't break Cayden's facial expression was his inmates' tyrannical, coarse comments behind his back alongside the symphony of sniggers._

_"I think it's high time to get back to our business." Meanwhile, the both men lifted up their rears from the top of the dining table and ambling up in cocksure gait, indicating their invicinble, fearless characters to confront and let the infamous serial killer down. "Hey Cayden! I'm sure why your mother has named you like that. It sounds pretty girlish!" After snatching an emptied beer can, subsequently his meaty fingers managed to scrunch the plastic can while Wayne crossing his arms dramatically coldhearted, eagerly anticipating the loner's facial expression to alter and his adrenaline to put them in the right track due to the accumulation of harassment. A handful of inches proximity was maintained between the trio as the duo of inmates' irises were landed on their target, whilst the horde of patients who were divided on groups even there were loners darted their inquisitive orbs on the outstandingly prominent scenery._

_"Oh come on, boychick!" The giant gentleman curled his pale-pinkish, thin lips in the jeer, mimicking the Louisianian's voice whilst lazily daubing with his solely free hand the generous layer of perspiration, coating his temple. In the meanwhile, the Louisianian was utterly focused on his meal, spooning a second bite from his mushroom soup after gripping the freshly baked pita and taking a large, ferocious bite, his peckishness resembling of a lone, stray wolf who is still striving to survive in the dark woods and eagerly examining the area for something to fill his empty stomach. "Hasn't your mama told ya how much she liked the name Cayden and naming you with something similar to Hayden?" Afterward Wayne Scott bended past the single father, attempting insistingly to deter him from masticating and lift up his coffee brown jewels from the platter with food and his colossal, calloused hands clawing the edges of the compact dining table._

_"Look at you, coward!" The Mexican compatriot manipulated his scrunched beer can to be hurled ruthlessly at the top of his dark hair after slurping complacently, recklessly the spooned bite from his meal, thus Ross and Wayne Scott barely oppressed the series of bluntly infantile, sardonic chuckles, scratching their throats and vibration dancing and seethering their Adam's apples. "How pathetic you don't even give a shit about your silence and how passive as coward mouse you appear to be!" Even when Cayden didn't seem to be sensitive to the bullies' verbal harassment and their despondent utterances, adrenaline and criminal fury were brewing and cooking inside him, besides lava overflowing into his veins. His instincts urged him to stay passive and the karma will reward with retribution the bullies, whilst his crystal inner voices echoed consciously to have an ominous revenge on them by putting them in the right track with a fight in the common room. Once the beer can slapped the top of his head, subsequently it landed in the middle of the rectangle table._

_"Do you know what are you even missing, prick?" At the moment, Wayne Scott yanked violently the platter with the Italian compatriot's dinner meal and drawing the tray towards his grand-frame, narrowing his thickly dark, kinky eyebrows alongside with his jet-black gems at the outsider, moistening his thin lips insatiably vile after ushering his berry-coloured tongue to spiral in its apex the upper and lower lips headstrongly, merely. "To share this meal with a special company."_

_"We're your company, you gourmand!" After a crudely coldhearted, ruthless drum on his broad, muscular shoulder by the Latin gentleman, he leaned against his earlobe, whispering diabolically daredevil to opt test his patience. "Come on!" The daredevil game hasn't ended yet even though the Louisianian fashioned his hands into balled fists, lugging up his rear from his hard oak wood chair and yet lingering his head ducked, flaring his nostrils in abhorrence, factly, it's his second day inside the facility's lifeless walls and Ross and Wayne Scott were already his foes even though he attempted to ignore them as if they didn't exist at all, in order to not bring any trouble and the staff members grant him harsher punishment. "Show us what you got!" All of a sudden, silence sifted their voices as if the time has stopped, Ross and Wayne glancing back at each other's facial features as the older man managed to bob his head, hinting his friend something will befall him until a spontaneous punch clouted across the Hispanic gentleman, flumping backward on the dull chilly floor, devouring his moderate high temperature while the bulky man crossed his arms, straightening his posture and ambling up to the Italian compatriot, sharply exhaling oxygen which his ablaze lungs reproduced._

_"How pathetic for punching my mate, Cayden! I thought we could do good friends." Whilst the Hispanic was lying on the floor helplessly bleating series of quiet whimpers in pain due to the punch which almost broke his nose and one of his nostrils initated to trickle crimson blood like lake of blood, his fingertips timidly stilling on the bridge of his nose, subsequently slithering sloppily._

_"I'm not socializing with bullies, Wayne!" Invicinble fearlessness contoured fiercely the single father's facial features, uncommon calmness vomited in his utterance and emphasis of the other patient's name. "That's rule number one if you want to be part of my company."_

_"Fathers of bastard children aren't my thing!"_

_"So as the bullies aren't in my case." As soon as their proximity diminished to a few inches, maintaining the appropriate personal space they shared, consequently the large-framed older man attempted to wallop with a balled fist across his face though Cayden's nimbleness, dodging the series of punches with the sly ducks, slyly smirking due to his rival's clumsiness and sluggishness. His heart rate rabidly amplified and the frequent heart drums throbbing vehemently into his chest._

_Tempest of stormy applauds were pitching the common room due to the fight which was situated and Cayden's versatility and legerity oozing of him. The both men's blood boiled in their veins and adrenaline pulsating into their figures._

_"I think I'm done with both of you!" At the moment, the notorious serial killer ushered his leg to lift up and his feet to kick the larger man in the groins with great deal of strength whilst ducking until the older gentleman fumbled clumsily, lazily his groins after the kick and hunkering on his knees to contact the floor, blathering a couple of severe groans in sore pain, whereas the Italian compatriot winked gamely at them until he didn't kick once again his aching knees as his face met the chilly flooring and the single father retiring from the battlefield victoriously, lifting up his gaze from his both rivals to encounter the other inmates', returning their grins with a content, villainous smirk flashing upon his parchment, young-looking complexion, approaching them as some of them scurried up to him to pat his shoulder kindly even when they used to bully him even to connive their assaults on him and now they're applauding him even worshipping him for confronting Ross and Wayne Scott, intimatiding the ocean of patients who were beyond mesmerized by his fighting skills and pure agility._

_"The big guy kicked those asshats' asses!" Among the crowd, there were certain mass of people who weren't very fond of Ross and Wayne Scott at all, worshipping and admiring the single father's mascuilinity and potent nature that put them on the right track."We're so proud of you, Cayden!"_

_"I won!" Smugness in Cayden's soft, honeyed whisper mewled after his tongue crafted the both words urgently, triumphantly._

\- _End of Flashback _-

\- _Back to Reality_ -

"What the hell is going on?" All of a sudden, the couple was snapped back to the reality after dwelling consciously out of their reverie's realm and their attempts to depict their imaginations' gears to reproduce modicum of the flashbacks, tinting their train of thoughts with Cayden's stay in Highway Vermont Mental Hospital years ago, according to the document. The police sirens were encircling the godforsaken, dilapidating façade for a handful of minutes after the authorities noticed a parked vehicle past the abandoned facility's remnants.

"The cops!" The blonde reconsidered her fiance's cuss, maneuvering her throat muscles to gulp sluggishly and persistently the bitter lump, seething her feminine Adam's apple and peering over Timothy's broad, muscly shoulder, her smoky quartz gemstones landing on the active policecars' shrilling sirens, pitching the wintery nocturnal's quietness. "What are they doing there?" Little did the blonde know what were the authorities' intentions of disturbing the couple in the middle of the night and most of all, venturing inside the former facility's residuums violently and without an ado, focusing crucially to investigate the grandiose, dilapidating façade's floors and rooms just before towering the stairway to the roof.

"We already know you're upstairs! Just show yourselves." What one of the police officers ordered, whilst warily, surreptitiously towering the stairway to the third floor and being all ears attentively for every background noise, pitching the nocturnal silence was the recent uninvited guests to be eerily alarmed by their presence and most of all, command to descend from the roof down to the very first floors and flee the façade. "Just come downstairs and we gurantee you won't be hurt. We good?" Afterwards a heavy sigh rolled the coursed oxygen at the top of the former members of the church's frail lungs after lifting up their rears from their seats and venturing cautiously to descend in monotonously, almost uneven drums the stairs for the lower floors without finding themselves in a trouble, troubling their physical condition nonetheless.

"Come on, my rare bird! Let's go instead of making the cops nervous." In the meanwhile, during the cascade process of the stone, dilapidatingly peeling stairs, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer was in front of her lover, grasping tightly his attractively mammoth, undeniably secure hand, zipping her naturally roseate, featherly-soft cherub lips in a pensive, attentive purse during their journey. The heart rates of their flimsy hearts increased rapidly rabid once the policecars' sirens and the solicitude presence was objected to spend their lonely post-proposal contemplating and relishing the godforsaken's madhouse ruins and midnight winter vista from high. The silence that was stretching the both former pious members of the clergy during their downstair journey, expediting in its own golden dynamic process and their breathy pants and their breathing unevenly hitching, tarnishing its own luster and huskiness underscoring each vowel and syllable, lurching embarrassingly and lumpily in their throats and their strawberry-coloured, wet tongues attempting to craft them hastily, adequately. Within the elapsing minutes of intensifying silence that yet glistened its stretched elasticity of the line, the couple cascaded a couple of floors like five and striding their steps in their disorderly hurry-scurry expedition to get back to the very first floor without any accidents to befall them physically and mentally. "Don't worry, police officers, we're coming!"

"Better hurry up!" The voice of the second policeman croaked, pitching its own echo with waves colliding into the dilapidating walls and spreading overally like the Black Death's plague. "We don't have forever to wait for you, Mister!" Meantime, the horde of policemen assembled the very first floors and getting on lower tiers of the godforsaken, old building. The harsh soundtrack of foreign footsteps, emanating from the higher tiers of the façade, extending their utter focus in casting their darkened gems on the spiral stairway and the huge hole, giving them better vista of the unseen surroundings, situated upstairs, tuned a humdrum ballad to the authorities who were readily informed about the certain abandoned buildings' forbidden entrance and visit from the general population and most of all, risking their lives due to the sequence of the strangers' stupidity to imperil their own lives and health conditions with stepping and stomping brashly, ruthlessly the once functioning facility which contemporarily sunk in its own remnants.

A handful of minutes later and the couple nosedived down to the first floor and assembled with the authorities, thereafter the former aspiring Monsignor pressed a peck on the top of the blonde's head, draping satinly secure, doting arms around her upper back to draw her in a kindhearted, tight embrace and providing her warmness and consolation shortly after she stung widened her caramel brown gemstones at the group of cops, stifling an unfamiliar babbling sound with its unknown context and notion accentuating her apprehension, trembling in her fiance's embrace after snaking her satin, lean arms around his shoulders whilst the police eyed glassily, sternly the sole forsaken mental hospital's visitors in the middle of the night.

"The cops!" The Bostonian blethed in a mumble the word, burying apprehensively, coyly her reddened face in the crook of her boyfriend's arm, ignoring the stern, glaring eyeing of the cops, catching between her front ivory teeth her lower cherub, naturally roseate lip. "Hopefully they don't arrest us or use pepper spray at least!" Reciting in mumble the prayers for safety and high spirits accented in her whispers, whereas the younger man manipulated his colossal, flabbergastingly consoling and warm hand rubbed the blade-bone delicately, soothingly.

"Everything will be alright, Jude! We'll be honest like a read book to them instead playing the detector lie's test!"

"You both birds in love!" The third cop who appeared to be a man in his mid-forties, approximately the Bostonian's age stood slightly shorter than the British compatriot with a handful of inches, matching with his rotund body structure, nevertheless, stocky and well-carved with soft fat muscles erecting beneath his winter police uniform. His skin tone was as scarcely healthy as palish ghost, indicating his critical health condition out of the moderate line. Graying due to the aging process highlights, melding with his jet-black scruffily soft, crispy hair capping his square shaped, parchment complexion and ideally matching with his piercing, unwelcoming amber jewels, flaming his stern professionalism. His name was Officer Wyatt Stanley Margolis. "Care to explain what are you doing there? In the middle of the night?" Wyatt Stanley's sternity punctuated his authoratitative stance, quirking playfully an eyebrow at the pairing, whilst one of his colleagues patted affably his shoulder, attempting to draw his attention.

"Do not embarrass them, Wyatt! It seems the blonde is quite embarrassed!"

"Ma'am and sir, do you know why we're here?" The older man crossed his flappily bulky arms, indicating his professionalism and mild irritation how intruders are daring to imperil daredevily in an abandoned site in the middle of the night shortly after the pairing broke off the embrace and Timothy poised steadily his lover comfortingly, whereas his smoky quartz jewels pierced through the ambers.

"Good evening! Because of putting our noses into somebody's business, right?" The British compatriot's pale-pinkish, silken lips parted in the enquiry, keeping the petite-framed woman to his right side, whilst one of his hands' fingers curled and fingered the older woman's pearly precious proposal ring. "I'm pretty sure we're just having risky adventures like some couples would do." At the moment, the lacking vouch of either of the policemen and the stammers which Timothy's tongue forged after constructing properly the syllables and vowels with great deal of efforts.

"No, sir!" Suddenly the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer gulped the sugarcoated in saliva salty lump, seething her throat and flexing her throat muscles to usher the swig at the haphazard snap of Officer Wyatt Stanley. "Entering in an abandoned building, full of dangers for people who are keen fans of having expeditions in such sites." Then a heavy sigh flushed his constricted bulky chest at the top of his fragile lungs, his voice rustier and huskier with each cough in attempt to clear his throat gruffily after smoking averagely a cigarette pack per a day. "Your I.D cards, please!" His command begged for their I.D cards to be demonstrated in a jiffy as they shoved their fingers in their slacks' profound pockets to fumble for the cards and subsequently yanking them and showing their identification, paginatinated on the I.D card, whilst the first cop was jotting down a prominent note in his small notepad, his only free hand's fingers curling in grasp to support the unflipped sheet of paper to not alter whether forward or backward with its page number. The ink of the pen oiled stably the recently jotted text as a piece of evidence of the recent events, noted in a remarkable resource.

"Right!"

"We're just enjoying the hazards and we tried to experiment with the proposal, taking its place," As the words after their arduous construction with luster syllables and vowels, lurching into his throat and thereafter rolling out of his tongue in a vague stammer, fogging the authorities interpretably, the middle-aged man imbibed with his citrine gems the both strangers as he was all ears, droning lowly. "Somewhere else rather than at home or the most common places where the couples situate their own proposals."

"Okay!" Meanwhile, Wyatt Stanley maneuvered his head to bob in a nod, affirming in somewhat agreement the former priest's claim.

"And we saw a patient file of a former patient who used to be jailed in this former mental institution who's also involved in a vicious massacre of young ladies thirteen years ago!" All of a sudden, what it snapped speechless the horde of cops was when the former nun welded and added what piece of evidence the couple has found shortly after their proposal on the roof of the grand façade, while the first cop ushered them with softly gesturing his hand to put back their I.D cards back from their default spots.

"Yes, ma'am! We're pretty aware of Mr. Gray murdering those young women a long time ago and his criminal history!"

"Then what are ya doing?" Suddenly the assemble of policemen ushered the couple to flee promptly the former facility's leftovers, managing to gesture them with a hand as they headed to the doorless front door from where they entered in the depths of the former madhouse, whereas the authorities escorted them, meekly ambling behind them.

"Protecting you for your own good and safety, ma'am!"

"So yar trying to protect us by abolishing us from this abandoned building when there's a piece of evidence that a serial killer on loose used to be a patient in an asylum?" At the moment, the blonde curled her petite, opaque hands into balled fists, fidgeting and quivering while balefully baring her teeth at the cops, venturing to articulate her own resentment how the disreputable serial killer on loose is still presentably wandering fluently in Vermont even slyly, mischievousy obscuring himself from the authorities, in order to avoid trouble with them. "What's that kind of irresponsibility to the system-"

"I think we had enough listening to you, ma'am! And no wonder why both of you are supposed to stay out of abandoned buildings!" When Wyatt Stanley cut her off curtly, stark, translucent ire was vibrating vehemently into her petite frame, whilst her fiancé draped a protective, muscly arm around her shoulder, maneuvering her to not participate in an aggressive clash with either of the cops especially the large-framed man, folding coldheartedly, stony-heartedly his arms across his bulky chest. "You've to listen to me-"

"No, Officer! Ya have to listen to me!" The headstrong nature of the former pious sister of the church exploded her skull with a mild headache, thumping with its scintillatingly unbearable pain the depths of her head coral and the oblivious pleas of Timothy in one ear and out the other. Meanwhile, her caramel brown bijous cauterized the appealing nonchalance with appalling coercionly wrath, igniting the deeper flames of her genuine current humor.

"Jude!" Even when the British aristocrat tried his best to prevent any hints of violence or inflammatory between the authorities and his girlfriend, his reprimand was a desert's whisper, barely discernable for the older lady who's risking their frontages to spend at least twenty-four hours in the custody for violent, outlaw treatment towards police officers. He didn't yearn Jude or himself to find themselves arrested and being far away from their home, their love child, Madeleine, Frank and everything else that pearly mattered to them and was the genuine symptom of their existence.

"Ma'am, you really don't have any idea in what kind of risk are you putting themselves!"

"Do not change the topic, Officer! Ya haven't even caught that psycho and blaming us for entering in an abandoned hospital! Cayden Gray can lurk wherever he wants tonight, but tomorrow guess where he'd be," A heavy sigh jointed with its coursing fresh oxygen of her ribcage, nibbling on her lower plump lip after clamping it between her sheerly cream-coloured front teeth, shuffling her feet after lightly stomping a short step in the lavish snow carpet. "And what he'd be capable of doing on the day after. He might murder yar children or how about kidnapping your wives or a relative from your family? Aren't ya thinking twice what may happen to yar families at least or anybody else?" In spite of the great deal of attempts of the first two cops to halt in stop and reassure their coworker to not approach the middle-aged lady, who was determined if she violates with uttering, consequently the rest of the night she's going to spend in the custody and obdurately handcuff her wrists without having any intentions of releasing her from the tightening grip of the irons, binding her wrist muscles to breath and function properly, linking with her hands' anatomy. "As an ex-nun, I haven't seen more irresponsible police than you, Officer Margolis! What a shame for thinking that the police is helpful but when there are serious cases like serial killers and bunch of nuts are roaming like as if they're in heaven and getting away with their own guilty pleasurable crimes, you just stick your nose in a business which is damn harmless and it has nothing to do against the law!" Suddenly the former devotional clergyman flocked his lips in a thoughtful, impenetrable purse, designating his low spirits during the bland heated debate between his lover and the older man.

"Wyatt, better listen to that smartass lady! We better gotta go." Whilst the first police officer was nudging his colleague to go back in their car, meantime, after persistently pursuing his gaze until he found his lapis lazuli embers linking with his ambers.

"No and no, Jase! I'm not going to allow anybody to outsmart me." Then the dark-haired gentleman shifted his attention haphazardly, temporarily to his coworker, shooting him a piercing, scintillating glare, wriggling his muscles to unbid from Jase and Adam's grapple in a jiff. "And you, ma'am, one word and I swear the entire night of yours is going to be spent in the custody for your ominous disrespect to the law!"

"Let's get this straight, Officer!" Within a sharp exhale and clearing gruffily her throat with excreting a dry cough through her throat, flexing her throat muscles promptly, whereas the British aristocrat lingered his muscly, potent arms binding her shoulders, attempting to drag his fiancé from the hostile territory and hop up in the cab and pull it off to home as soon as possible. "Yar expecting us to follow the law while ya aren't even doing yar own job to catch or at least investigate that psychopath or anybody from his family and yar just erupting the entire lava of wrath on an innocent couple that hasn't done anything wrong." All of a sudden, the policemen' eyes wrenched widened at the dumbfounding words of the Bostonian, trying to convince them of their lacking responsibility to do their own tasks instead chasing even verging to fine a pairing with their own eccentric romantic plans, refilling their leisure time schedule. "An abandoned building, visited by plenty of enthusiasts in exploring such sites is being preys of its remnants and inhabitants in less percentages rather than twisted people like Mister Gray minding their own business anywhere and kills more people daily rather than a godforsaken site's visitors." The pure impulse of Officer Wyatt Stanley to handcuff the former holy woman were increasing the greater chances of venturing and maintaining an inappropriate, way too close proximity with the blonde, ambling up to her, whilst the couple retired to hop up in the cab after the younger man dragged his lover away from the authorities, escaping their vicious claws.

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So _-

A half an hour after the former members of the clergy fled the antagonizing area where they're endangered with spending at least a whole day in the custody without returning at home to behold Madeleine and Edward Ralph even Stephen, the cab was pulled off to the privately owned two-story mansion and parked with several yards past the façade. When the cab's incessantly buzzing engine wrenched the former members of the church's eyelids with sluggisher blinks in choir, almost snapping shut in the beauty coma especially in Judy's case, consequently the former religious holy man dumped his hands from the steering wheel after unplugging his car keys and retrieving them in the balled fist, shifting his attention to the blonde's sluggishness.

"Jude, don't tell me you're falling asleep there!" Nudging with a satin elbow gingerly her arm snapped her out of her daydreaming and mild slumber, pursuing for her favorite smoky quartz bijous to link with her caramel brown, elaborating a girlish giggle. "No, no! It's too cold to sleep there without any sleeping equipment and all alone!" The vowels and syllables gearing his honeyed whisper tingled alarmed tones into her ears as if it's her morning alarm clock, droning her disencouragingly to flee the bed sheets for the beginning of the day whenever she'd be productive.

"I won't, I promise!" After elaborating the slurring murmur, tracing with a forefinger the salty lump's bulge, almost swallowing it with flexing her throat muscles, she glanced sideway to make sure they're home though the vague grogginess, inhabiting her caramel brown cabochons. "I need coffee." The impulsive grunt rolling from her mouth whilst squinting up her hazelish-brown embers at him, opening her mouth in a soft O, the younger man managed to rake and finger her long mop of gilded sleek tresses, twirling and combing them between his pristinely milky fingers.

"Okay, okay! You seem pretty tired to do it on your own as you can spend some time with Maddie, Edward or Stephen, while," Thereafter he brought down his mammoth, secure hand to her cheek, cupping and palming the creamy, alabaster facial skin beneath the flat surface of his palm, the pad of his thumb tracing her well-sculptured cheek while being pinned by one of her elvish hands, squeezing firmly. "While I'll take care of the coffee, okay?" All of a sudden, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer managed a docile nod, humming in response. "Good!" Meanwhile, they hopped out of the vehicle and the former priest manipulated his fingers to insert clumsily in the compact keyhole of the driver's door, subsequently in a single click he locked his cab and followed the blonde with meek, long steps.

"Here you're paramours! Bless you!" Suddenly for their own surprise, the Michiganian opened the front door, dumping the widely opened door while spreading her satin arms in the thin air, tugging a content, beaming grin, baring her ivory enamel, whereas the couple were towering the threshold stairs and approaching the Michiganian, returning a radiant, sympathetic smiles, glimmering across her hazelish-brown pools.

"Bless you too, Maddie!"

"So keep in mind Edward and Stephen are deeply asleep like little babies, " After the front door swung shut after the young woman maneuvered her petite, marbled hand to push the oak wood material, grazing beneath her palm and fingers, peering over her dainty shoulder and acknowledging how the lovers were aiming in different directions as the former holy man was in the kitchen, whilst the older lady stepped inside the living room.

"It's already after midnight, Maddie! We already know their schedules." The croak scrapping the older lady's throat to keep Madeleine's wits about the two-month kitten and almost five-month old baby boy's schedules, subsequently perching her rear on one of the armchairs cozily, reclining her back whilst anticipating for her coffee and the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman to set a foot in the living room.

"It's good to see you after your romantic adventure with your Romeo." In the meantime, the juvenile blonde ventured to join her mentor, thus dumping her petite-frame on the leather couch and reclining, whilst her arms lazily rested on the couch's back, shooting her honey brown gems at her mentor. "I'm sure your fun romantic adventures were situated somewhere in an abandoned building, I guess."

"It's true. Just some romantic experience in an abandoned building!" At the moment, the middle-aged woman bleated the confession as she readjusted her seating posture in seizing her lap and manipulating one of her legs to cross on top of her mid-thigh. "It's amorously different. It didn't feel like the picnics or the walks on the beach." Suckling on her lower lip after capturing between her front ivory teeth the raw spot of her lip, she slurped inwardly, gingerly the naturally mauve flesh and relishing its delicate skin of juices brush the edges of her front teeth. "But once I saw there was a patient file of Cayden who used to be a criminally insane for the brutal slaughter of eleven sixteen-year-old girls," The heavy sigh disposed her brittle lungs, shaking her head, whereas rubbing with her spidery palish fingertips her temple, twirling her tongue to moisten her upper lip, meantime, Madeleine was all ears and nausea submerged the quantity of food and liquid which she's consumed throughout the hours in her small stomach at the mentioned name of the psychopath. "It's a far cry from his sanity would be ever as moderate as one of us. This twisted mind cries for a professional help or a nuthouse. Somebody to avail him to be on his feet mentally." What it abhorred the both adults was that Cayden used to be one of the criminally insanes of Highway Vermont Mental Hospital which now is flooded and sailed in its own remnants. Madeleine fastened her lips in a pensive, childlike purse, bobbing her head, stilling the pace of her bouncing meaty legs, sensing the genuine notion of an infamous serial killer's rich criminal history and his dastard deeds and his involvement in a mental hospital's imprisonment. "And the cops, of course, didn't bother to park their cars past Tim's cab and get us without touching us physically out of the abandoned building even though they're scarcely doing their own fucking business. Putting their noses into the couple's business for visiting an abandoned building where there are less murder cases rather than a psycho like Cayden who might be responsible for the deaths of ten people by the following day for example."

"Those cops don't have a mercy for innocents like you which is such a shame!" The juvenile flowerstore saleswoman hissed and scrapped with her medium-sized manicured in bubblegum pink fingernails the delicate skin of her neck, dragging them at the swan curve of her expanse downward to her neckline, indicating her mild irritation when it comes up to the authorities' and her ginormous abhorrence of them. "I'm really sorry you didn't have enough time to spend in a solictitude. Staying away from your responsibilities and bids, Judy!"

"Don't apologize, Maddie! It's rather my fault why I slapped ya like a coldhearted bitch when ya found out about thirteenth page of my journal!" Emphasis spotlighted prominently the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's apology, kneading commonly, softly her temple yet as her digitals admired the soft skin of her forehead. "Sooner or later, everybody is rewarded with whatever they've granted to somebody they dearly love the pain and treatment they don't eventually deserve for their care and affection."

"It's okay, Judy! Sometimes you've your own impulse and wrath to pour and let it out somehow, but it never means hatred even if it's a slap towards me or the ones you love." The once caged oxygen pulsating into the young lady's lungs were no longer depositing her breathing organs and coursing throughout her tiny, vulnerable nostrils, muffling a yawn after clamping with a marbled, petite hand. "You can yell the hell out at me or whatever to pour your entire wrath and accumulated negative energy on me, but it will never reflect on our friendship, you know! But never say it's your fault that your naivety was foreshadowing the sequence of what Cayden did to you and rewarding you for not listening to us."

"Not anymore! You been following this car explosion earlier today?"

"Yeah! You know Cassandra mother's acquaintance who didn't take control over rescuing herself and her granddaughter? Because she was so torn up?"

"Okay! Look, let me stop ya right there, all right?" In the interim, the middle-aged mother cut off curtly her own protégé, gesturing with hands while her rhetorical posed question rolled out of her mouth smoothly. "You are not responsible for this. Not in any way, shape or any form, all right? I'm very up-to-date on this thing, probably far more than yar, and there are," The stutter was lurching from her cherub, naturally roseate lips, tangling an exhale at the top of her lungs whilst the younger blonde peered over the petite-frame's physique noting another prominent addition to the company who was eventually the former ambitious Monsignor, his lacteal delicate fingers draped around the plain oyster-white mug of freshly brewed, hot coffee wafting with its mouth-watering caffeine aroma across the both women's button noses, bulking them into the tall figure as Judy turned to her boyfriend, accepting the handed mug of coffee and leaving it on the coffee table to cool for a few minutes, due to the sweltering high temperature, blighting her delicate digits, bobbing her head in expression of graceful gratitude. In the meantime, the younger man seated alongside his girlfriend without registering a coarse interruption, whereas Jude dropped gently her head on Timothy's muscly, broad shoulder. "There are many factors to play there. Yeah? For instance, whether the battery has exploded, causing the disastrous fire or somebody else is responsible for this. But who has the efforts to put the bomb in the car's luggage carrier?" During Jude and Madeleine's yet registering debate as Jude was dominating with elaborating whatever her tongue forged as syllables and vowels, the British compatriot was all ears as much as his friend and he didn't have to say anything remarkable as a bonus to their conversation when his presence was just an acknowledgment just seconds ago in the living room. The sole thing which the British compatriot could exhibit naturally, instinctively even idly would be a vague benevolent smile, tweaking sharply across his naturally baby pinkish, softly satin lips and squinting up his smoky quartz gemstones at each side whose turn was to utter anything, pitching the midnight silence. "Now that's a public record! You can look that up. And the whole system is run on 1950s techonologies in Mrs. Roberts' case by judging her vehicle how outdated is compared to the recent sixties vehicles." All of a sudden, pause muted the middle-aged unmarried mother as she maneuvered one of her petite, snow-white hands reached for the cup of caffeine liquid and lugging it up to her mouth, grazing with her gorgeously rosy-coloured, plumpish lips the porcelain material while sipping and hydrating her organs with caffeine to extend her insomnia and freshness. "No! No, I really blame for some reason the government."

"You either run from things or you face them, Judy!"

"And what does that exactly mean?"

"I learnt it after having a revenge on my ex-boyfriend's best friend with setting him on fire with matches. It's all about after relieving myself what consequences would anticipate me if I were passive, accepting who you really are."

"I accept who I'm." The velvety timbre of her Boston lilt punctured her revelation, sweeping off her mouth whilst sipping for second time of her mug of caffeine beverage, thereafter dumping the marbled cup on the coffee table, reclining comfortably on the couch and clinging her weight to the former aspiring Monsignor, who fingered and combed her aureate scalp, admiring the softness of her lion mane of silky old Hollywood curls, piled up on her dainty, feminine shoulders.

"And who you are?"

"I'm the nasty woman."

\- _The Next Morning _-

\- _19th of February, 1966_ -

Within the elapsing morning at light speed's pace, the organized funeral of Harry by his inner circle took its place in the central Vermont cemetery which was an eerily grand location or rather residence of the grayish, lifeless gravestones as essential public document, paging up the former mortals' recent and final home just after their weightless, immobile bodies with loosen flesh are buried underground.

The wee hours of the morning were embraced by the cloudless with its monumentally authentic wintery morning prospect of lividus paint, brushing the sky with its most esthetic pigments. Miraculously, the snowfall was uneven even vanishing its own luxurious medley of dance and performances, playing out in the late February morning.

On Harry's funeral along with his mother and Mary Louise's the solely invited guests were crucially his inner circle such as nephews, sister and Hary's girlfriend, who's accompanied by her only child. Furthermore, the priest was chanting nonchalantly the emotional, elegiacly holy canticles while the grave-diggers were persistently scooping the soil in their shovels and headstrongly tossing the rich, spoonful soil onto the motionless corpse, accumulating each ounce of brown dirt which lessened the scale's space of Harry's corpse opacity.

"Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy, whose trust, ever child-like, no cares could destroy," The devotional man of the cloth, visibly in his late thirties with jet-black neatly smartened and trimmed haircut capping his head, pairing with his piercing, brutally honest lapis lazuli gemstones, fixated on the Holy Bible's widely spread pages of the Catholic funeral hymn's canticle, glittering its jet-black ink past his vision. Moreover, his skin tone was fairly glossy and healthy, betaking his healthy condition, based on variety of factors. Last but not least, even though his height was approximately structured for an average heterosexual man with solemnly took vows, embodying his virginal and vulnerable nature with well-scholarized knowledge and eloquence in his mouthful words, uttered by a syllable and vowel, anyway his body structure was impressively average with toned muscules, highlighting his yet masculinity which was a bewitching eye candy and Achilles' Heel for the representatives of the opposite sex especially during funerals and church's masses. His name was Father Kellan Teagan Montgomery. "Be there at our waking, and give us, we pray, Your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day."

"I know how genuinely he meant to you, mom," Cassandra drapped a silken, comfy arm around her mother's upper back, drawing her weight towards her, subsequently clinging to her and scooping her in the meaningful, affectionate hug which Andrea yearned to share with Cassandra after being neglected by her for years and not sharing as candidly tender hug as the current. The sobs broke off Andrea's facial attributes with glassy stains blotching up her alabaster facial skin with sticky tears, drenching her Persian blue's top hat, clawing her only child's shoulderblades tenderly with her gloved elvish hands. "I'm dearly sorry for your loss and everything. I've to admit my neglection towards you was sort of revenge which is a sequence of already deceased people and I'll never forgive myself for that." Meanwhile, the middle-aged blonde was beyond blowmindingly speechless and far from physically and mentally strong to utter anything. "Thanks to being without me, you're breaking bad! I'm such an idiot."

"Shh, shh, Cass, no! Don't blame yourself!" Suddenly the blonde's eyelids wrenched widely opened and withdrawing her weight from the top of the young woman's head, flexing her throat muscles to swallow hard the bittersweet lump in her throat. "Everything is fine, honey!" In the interval, the almost ex-prostitute managed to ravish into the palms of her gloved hands her daughter's cheeks, blotched up with sheerly baby pink blanket, overlaying her chubby, well-defined facial skin.

The medley ballad of elegiac sobs, shovels' spooning and tossing soil and Father Kellan pitched the lethally hushing cemetery, whilst the frosty late February wind pierced the exposed fleshes and swaddling hypodermically frostily the regulated body temperature in its scooped, metaphorically welcoming embrace.

"Do you still love me?" The juvenile light brunette posed the question, murmur decreasing her enquiry's decibels abruptly, bleating a despondent, teary whimper while struggling to swallow the phlegms, red-rimmed, glistening in swamp of dew dark embers flicked up into her mother's indiscernible midnight black embers, scarcely averting her gaze.

"Lord of all eagerness, Lord of all faith, whose strong hands were skilled at the plane and the lathe, be there at our labours," The dark-haired gentleman yet grasped his curled fingers around the leather Holy Bible's covers, seizing to give him bigger scale of the widely spread pages, his Irish lilt accentuating the declaim, thus flexing his scruffy jaw line, mapped with purely attractive masculine stubble, left unshaved for a handful of days at least. The oblivion in his violently hammering heart pulsations, throbbing into his ears was solely discernible for his consciousness.

"No matter the pain and the sorrow, you're still my favorite person in this world and I love you with my whole heart pearly! You aren't even an idiot, Cass! That's just an inner voice of your remorses, bullying and torturing you even when you had the right to be disgusted because of what I used to be."

\- _2 Hours Later_ -

After having their promisingly scrumptious breakfast and morning coffees, besides feeding Stephen and changing Edward Ralph's diapers and garments from his convenient pyjamas into his casual every day outfit, the juvenile foster kitten was bided in a cage, in order to not escape his owners or dash elsewhere during their morning destination to the vet clinic. Shortly after the cab was pulled off and parked on one of the free parking lots, the British aristocrat snatched the cage with the charcoal gray cat, accompanied by his girlfriend whose satinly protective, doting arms were securing in scooped embrace their little cherub angel after locking up the cab and marching up to the two-story façade.

As soon as a youngster in his late teens grappled the door handle after noting the remarkable couple as impending visitors to step inside the vet clinic's building, his pristinely calloused fingers pressed the door handle, consequently swinging the nefariously squeaky front door, stepping aside to give sufficient space to the adults to venture inside without an ado, lingering his friendly, fresh smile spread across his berry-coloured, chapped lips.

"Why thank you, young man!" The both former members of the church bowed meekly, politely their heads in expression of their tremendous gratitude to the young gentleman, whilst the five-month-old baby was bleating blatantly, futily sweet, misty cooes and babbles to his mother, stretching his pudgy arms to card and finger her delicate, dainty jaw line. Glowing grins registered kindhearted, healthy giggles additionally and taking seats beside the first vet's office even though the door was shut and the series of despondent dog's pules emanating from the initial office thudded into their ears, amalgamating with Stephen's desperate mewls, escaping his mouth.

The foreign atmosphere for the foster cat and infant obliterated their calmness which once contoured their facial attributes. There were variety of people with different backgrounds and pets, whether scooped into their arms or on the contrary leashed or caged in compact cages, anticipating for the other vet doctors accept them. Miraculously, what the pairing had ginormous luck was there weren't any people before them to consult with the vet which Timothy has actually phoned a few days ago and seeking professional council even arranging an appointment for Saturday morning.

The wall clock uneasily ticked and droning quietly, divulging for each pair of scanning in scrutiny or glimpse eyes the recent time which was "9:55am" in the morning. Although the former pious members of the church were right on time with a few minutes before the actual appointment with the vet, their immense patience and versatility never failed to not jade them at all.

"Mama!" The young boy's disoriented uncertainity spotlighted his cooes and babbles even when registering his rhetorical exclaimation towards his mother. The eerie flat line carding the young boy's baby-pinkish, cherub lips glinted into the older woman's hazelish-brown pools emphaticity in her optimism, being capable of altering her son's humor with a single gesture or a smile, or rather delivering him the modicum of attention and stark affection he craves as a youngster.

"I know, sweetie, but our little pal needs to see vet as soon as possible before it's too late!" At the moment, the Bostonian pressed a tender, featherly-soft peck on her baby boy's forehead after her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips worried his delicate, marbled facial skin, squinting up his huge, round hazelish-brown bijous, darted to his two of a kind creators, glimmering second nature's mirthful, childlikely unblemished salmagundi, blazing into his indiscernible ebony widened pupils. Thereafter one of the Bostonian's hands managed to stroke gingerly, softly her son's chestnut still growing hair, combing and twirling between her digits the crispy softness and admiring its freshness. "Look at ya, handsomer! Yar a strong warrior as ya have always been and taking after me and yar wonderful father your undeniable persistence when it comes up to the foreign feelings and notions! " Suddenly, the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer manipulated her forefinger and thumb to pinch playfully, kindly Edward Ralph's adorable button nose, opting to sidetrack him from the foreign sentiment of stepping in a facility which is for curing or consulting with animal professionalists about pets.

"Shh, shh, shh, sweetie! Everything will be alright. We're going to see your vet only." The series of bewildered, desperate mewls, scrapping the juvenile kitten's throat whilst manipulating his small nails to scratch the cage's ground at the leveling up anxiety's level, escalating the borderlines of moderacy. Cooing soothingly in the affable, low hum tingled angelic anthems into the charcoal gray cat's big ears, the haphazardity of the hushed despondent cat bewails muted Stephen's mouth. "He's completely harmless. He won't bite or harm you at all."

"And Ms. Collins, if you want to avoid any fleas, encumbering your German Pinscher's fur, you've to keep combing your dog's fur with flea comb by dipping it in a mixture of dish soap and water," In the meanwhile, the pairing shifted their attentions immediately to the swung opened office door of Dr. Barrow Carter, who was one of the most prominently popular vet doctors in Vermont for his opulent experience and career in the vet clinic and excellent professionalist in consulting with worried pet owners about fleas, food poisoning and so forth symptoms, strangely occurring into their pets' common daily life, was eventually a man in the beginning of his forties with dirty blond naturally bushy haircut, capping above his average sized ears, matching idealistically with his dark thick eyebrows and promisingly glowing emerald green cabochons and slightly tanned skin tone. His Maryland lilt accented his professional caution to the senior lady who owned a German Pinscher, struggling with fleas during winter's episode which was oddly encountered even among dog and cat owners rather than the warmer episodical climates annually. Last but not least, Barrow stood approximatel 6'2 with average body structure, his meager muscles hardly bubbling up through his attires and contouring his genuine masculinity except his arms and somewhat legs. "To kill the remaining fleas on the comb! Bathe him with a specially-formulated flea shampoo and therefore use flea spray to treat your pet anyway."

"Thank you very much for the advice, Doctor! I'll keep in mind how to treat Arthur's fleas anyway!" Meantime, the older lady lowered her glance to meet her German Pinscher's enormous indiscernible chocolate brown irises, transfixed on her and maneuvering his tiny, spongy strawberry-coloured tongue to lubricate her white-calloused hands with which she carried the light-heavy pet. "Despite his hyperactivity in the middle of the night, I'll try my best to do what's possible before bedtime! He's a good boy anyway." The retired tailor nuzzled her button, scabby nose against her pet's soft, fluffy head affectionately, smoothly, whilst her tongue conjugated the jubilant, half-hearted giggle. "Goodbye and have a nice day, Doctor!"

"Goodbye and you too, Ms. Collins!" Shortly after the senior lady aimed up to the front door, accompanied by her grandson to flee the two-story façade, subsequently after Barrow locked up his emerald green cabochons with the twains of dark cabochons transfixed on him, he ushered them with a mammoth, veiny and stiffy hand to enter in his office momentarily, factly, it's high time their turn to be registered. "Good morning, ma'am and sir! Are you Mr. Howard and Ms. Martin?"

"Yes, we're! We've actually an appointment with you for ten o'clock today." The British compatriot's emphatic declaim was desposited from his tongue, lifting up his rear in choir with Judy from the chairs and approaching the Marylandian, returning him the kindhearted, effortless smile, manifesting crystally in thrieving on their mouths to show modicum of kindness to the professional.

"Fine! Let's get started by inspecting your pet just shortly before to smell the luxurious aroma of questions, spreading in my office!" All of a sudden, the unwed parents of their love child set a foot in the Marylandian's workroom promptly without thinking twice and once they ambled up to the examination table, thus Timothy maneuvered one of his hands' pristinely potent, meaty fingers to unbid the cage's door and release the charcoal gray cat from it as his soft, fluffy paws gently drummed against the table's surface.

\- _A Few Days Later or So_ -

\- _22nd of February, 1966_ -

After the couple paid a visit to the vet clinic to acknowledge comprehensively about their recently adopted pet and Barrow has scarcely noticed any critical symptoms, foreshadowing a gruesome infection or ordeal for the two-month kitten, the both former devotional members of the clergy couldn't be more jubilant about their pet's moderately healthy condition even though Barrow cautioned them what kind of food they're obligated to grant to the cat daily.

By the following beginning of the new week and after getting back to work after the brief break from spending a half a day in the flower store and vending flowers and plants with her business partner, consequently everything went smoothly throughout the last days of February in the business and barely struggling with the monthly budget which was amusingly escalating with a few hundreds of dollars more than the previous month.

In addition to when the former religious nun fled her workplace in the late hours of the evening and calling a taxi via a payphone along with purchasing a family sized pizza for home, the taxi driver pulled her off to her current residence's real address within less than a quarter an hour and hopping out of the cab cocksurely, scooping in her leanly alabaster arms the monumental box of pizza.

All of a sudden, the front door of the privately owned mansion wielded widely opened, spread like a read book's pages at the sight of the former ambitious Monsignor curling steadily his fingers around the door knob, inhaling the pungent scrumptious fragrance of richly warm pizza with grilled cheese, mushrooms, bacon and tomatoes mapping the freshly baked flour slices.

"Hi, my rare bird!" The sheer merriness, submerging the younger man's English lilt at the bewitching prospect of his fiancée bringing a recently baked and purchased family pizza, whereas he managed his tiny, flexible nostrils to inwardly inhale the delightfully delicious fragrance, longing for a long time to savor a bite of slice of pizza at least, salivating the corners of his mouth and beginnings of his masculinely plump, pale-pinkish lips. "You're kidding!"

"Hi, honey! I'm not really kidding." Striding up to the corridor, whilst sensing softly calloused, colossal hands gripping the enormous carton box and the sole of his feet kicking backward lazily the front door to shut down in a stormy slam, thereafter he lugged up the pizza box up to the kitchen where Edward was sitting in his high chair, eagerly anticipating for his parents' reunion. "Brought some pizza! Mmm!" Meantime, the older lady undraped the winter pantaletot and hanging it on the polished coat hanger, whereas kicking off indolently her knee length boots and hopping up in conveniently fuzzy slippers, shoing her petite feet. What it premonitorily mesmerized the British compatriot was his fiancée ventured to spend modicum of her afterwork time in purchasing family-sized pizza for home even though he still questioned her tonight's intentions in the culinary, moistening his lips after ushering his tongue out of the oral caverns.

"Mama! Dada!" The merriness in the little boy's babbles and mewles, unloading his throat pitched the kithchen in the wee hours of the evening, stretching his pudgy arms in the thin air, yearning to draw in a dangled embrace his mother or father or on the contrary both creators doubtlessly, absorbing mutually warmness, clinging to their weight and fleshes.

"It's such a joy to see ya, my little sunshine! As always after work and with big surprises to pamper my favorite boys!" Managing her careening to the high chair of the infant, she lowered her elvish, milky hand to stroke and trailing her dainty palish fingers to admire his's chestnut hair and facial skin's astounding creaminess as Edward Ralph geared series of joyous giggles, molting the adults' hearts. "Ya only deserve the best!"

"You don't have any idea how long it's been since I've eaten pizza." When the carton box was set on the counter hesitantly, subsequently hunkering to the counter's lowest drawer to retrieve two empty, unused dishes to be plated with a slice of the criminally delightful pizza per a person and dumping the box on the counter with its closed ingress, in case, if somebody wants a bonus slice. "Aren't you planning to cook something sloppily or anything else?"

"Not really after torturing ourselves with healthy dieted food for weeks! It's high time like once a week or a few times monthly to pamper ourselves with our common guilty pleasures." Meanwhile, the Bostonian evinced her alabaster, secure hands to scoop their little cherub angel into a doting, protectively everlasting hug and reassuringly bouncing him up to abstain him to meow series of blatant, idle huffs and whines, draining his lungs' translucently solid barrier. "It's been years since I've eaten something more delicious than pizza."

"I can see it's slightly colder. I'll make sure to zap it. Are you actually peckish, Judy?"

"Somewhat, but save it for eight and a half o'clock. Just an hour and a half later! And Tim!"

"Yes, Jude?"

"What about our honeymoon? When the wedding is going to happen with the honeymoon?"

"I was thinking of late March to happen the wedding. We've a month more overthinking its matrimony, sweetie!" Then he jettisoned his attention from the pizza box and strolling up to his lover with their lovely infant, maintaining a scanty space of proximity which divided them with millimeters.

"Late March is perfect month for the wedding to confess! Furthermore, let's make a deal!" In the interim, peach pink-painted-clad blanket mantled munificently underneath her glowing, creamy well-sculptured cheeks' facial skin with blush, touching the sensitive parts of blush's vulnerability and higher chances of atomizing the flush's plague after curving his palms to spoon her cheeks, sensing the vehement throbbing of the flush beneath his palms' epidermis, prickled in electrifying goosebumps. After capturing Judy's naturally roseate, plumpish lips in a briefly steamy kiss, they broke off the kiss and stilling the ogles, intensifying their eyes' potent connection. "Once we eat the pizza, we'll tell Frank, Maddie and everybody else from our inner circle about the wedding." The light-heavy ounce, hitching the both adults' guttural breaths plunking their ribcages, their lips parted in complacent, enticed grins, exuding their mouths in wide O, incarnating their mirth which roughly grained their facial features in no time, earning their love child's inquisitive gawk, admiring their ethereally realistic love and cherishing the moments spent with his creators. "And we've still time until the honeymoon, although I was thinking to go Adams, Tennesse! For exploring some adventurously risky destinations for a seven-day-honeymoon."

"That's incredibly fine decision! I haven't thought of an eerie city to be part of our honeymoon destination."

"The experimenting is always my favorite part of travelling since we've the money of the world to travel and discover the other cities and states' aesthetics!"

Suddenly the blonde aimed to tower the exquisitely lacquered stairway after walking away from the kitchen to the second floor to bathe her ray of sunshine just before breastfeeding him a handful of minutes before laying him down to kip in his own crib, her docilely delicate footsteps echoing against the notoriously squeaky wooden planked flooring with every careful thud.

Author's Note: What kind of changes will occur in Andrea and Cassandra's platonic relationship mother-daughter? Is Stephen going to be still healthy even though his fragile age? What we shall more expect from Jude and Timothy's relationship with abundance of tribulations?

The mid-finale is within a chapter! I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter! :))


	25. The End of the Fucking Odds

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Cut the crap, sweetheart! The witches are in New Orleans, not in Monroe! Jesus Timothy! But anyway I can see that he's two children from the same ex-wife who was murdered by him and her skeleton was used for Halloween decoration. Andy is sent in an orphanage during his father's stay in Highway Vermont mental hospital for criminally insane."_

_"He's Capricorn, who likes smoking and drinking whiskey even wearing dark clothes, indicating his dangerousness and rogue character. And there isn't any information about his son Andy except he's sent in an orphanage just when his father was being institutionalized and Martha, Andy's twin was given to Sebastian, Cayden's older brother."_

_"I think it's good time to mess with that little brat with a bastard son who's now in an orphanage. What a stupid son of the bitch, Ross!" _

_"I think it's high time to get back to our business."_

_"And we saw a patient file of a former patient who used to be jailed in this former mental institution who's also involved in a vicious massacre of young ladies thirteen years ago!"_

_"Yes, ma'am! We're pretty aware of Mr. Gray murdering those young women a long time ago and his criminal history!"_

_"Yeah! You know Cassandra mother's acquaintance who didn't take control over rescuing herself and her granddaughter? Because she was so torn up?"_

_"Okay! Look, let me stop ya right there, all right? You are not responsible for this. Not in any way, shape or any form, all right? I'm very up-to-date on this thing, probably far more than yar, and there are...there are many factors to play there. Yeah? For instance, whether the battery has exploded, causing the disastrous fire or somebody else is responsible for this. But who has the efforts to put the bomb in the car's luggage carrier? Now that's a public record! You can look that up. And the whole system is run on 1950s techonologies in Mrs. Roberts' case by judging her vehicle how outdated is compared to the recent sixties vehicles. No! No, I really blame for some reason the government."_

_"Lord of all hopefulness, Lord of all joy, whose trust, ever child-like, no cares could destroy, Be there at our waking, and give us, we pray, Your bliss in our hearts, Lord, at the break of the day."_

_"I know how genuinely he meant to you, mom. I'm dearly sorry for your loss and everything. I've to admit my neglection towards you was sort of revenge which is a sequence of already deceased people and I'll never forgive myself for that. Thanks to being without me, you're breaking bad! I'm such an idiot."_

_"And Ms. Collins, if you want to avoid any fleas, encumbering your German Pinscher's fur, you've to keep combing your dog's fur with flea comb by dipping it in a mixture of dish soap and water to kill the remaining fleas on the comb! Bathe him with a specially-formulated flea shampoo and therefore use flea spray to treat your pet anyway."_

_"Thank you very much for the advice, Doctor! I'll keep in mind how to treat Arthur's fleas anyway! Goodbye and have a nice day, Doctor!"_

_"Not really after torturing ourselves with healthy dieted food for weeks! It's high time like once a week or a few times monthly to pamper ourselves with our common guilty pleasures. It's been years since I've eaten something more delicious than pizza."_

_"I can see it's slightly colder. I'll make sure to zap it. Are you actually peckish, Judy?"_

\- _Flashback_ -

\- _15 Years Ago_ -

\- _25th __of October, 1951_ -

_Late October was pacing at snail's gait with the perpetually chilly autumn breezes, daily rainy episodes and the phenomenal leaffall, dwelling out of their birth home and relentlessly venturing toppling over the ground with luxuriously lavish carpet of multicoloured leaves._

_Nevertheless tonight composed the nocturnal atmosphere with its own quietness, whistling its own ode in Vermont._

_Cassandra's birthday was due in almost mid-November and she was already asleep in her bedroom, while her mother has brought another client over their small household to earn sufficient cash for her survival and fulfill the patchy financial binds which were binding the young woman._

_It's been a while since Andrea was no longer dating her pearly decent friend Gus, known as the most popular and presentably prestigious lawyer in Vermont. The heartache of acknowledging how futile was dating somebody who didn't have the energy even the time to gear up their romantic and sexual life was tearing her down like a broken child whose parents didn't have enough time for him to provide sufficient quantity of time, emulated to each adequate parent's celestial affection and attention. She wasn't feeling like her normal self anymore. She wasn't sensing the unconditional love which every adequate, loving and caring man even inner circle face even with be short of time due to the unconditional daily work refilling his daily schedule would provide her along with warmness and comfort. Despte Gus's attempts to provide financially his ex-girlfriend with enough money to pay for any ongoing, unpaid yet bill or anything for Cassandra's school equipment, it still unconvered the entire financial issue at all._

_The common one-night stands with a few clients daily before Cassandra was home and before bedtime were the sole alternatives for the young woman to be hedonistically rewarded for selling her own body, labeled with variety of prizes, depending of the customer, itself._

_The recent gentleman who was appointed for an one-night stand with the single mother was a man in his mid-20s with leanly muscly, toned body structure, exquisitely and gracefully contouring his masculinity. His outstanding chocolate dark skin tone, presentably matching with his amber brown gems and elegantly plump, luscious lips were ornamenting his full, heart-shaped profile with his indiscernible jet-black neatly combed haircut, capping above his ears and thick, expressive eyebrows. He was standing 6'5 and compared to the prostitute's petite frame, Kenneth Tyresse was outstandingly much taller, resembling a marble statue if Kenneth was actually standing beside Andrea. Last but not least, his grandparents are African emigrants, whereas his siblings and parents are eventually Afro-Americans due to the roots._

_"That was damn good, Kenneth!" The Wisconsian mewled series of shrilling moans and groans, yet lingering on her throat in levitating vibration after flipping on the other side of her double bed and her lover planted inside her climaxed core his own marbled seed, flumping heavily on the bed, stilling his both strongly muscular arms around the blonde's bare, satin waist. "Your doing wonders, aren't ya?" The sheer mischievousness in the Wisconsian's rhetorical inquery didn't fade the duo's lingering merry grins, outstandingly attempting to catch their breathing and the series of monotonously frequent pants thudding their ribcages. Stickily pleasurable perspiration, elating orgasm and pure muscular spasms were clung to their figures, occupying yet the outskirts of the double bed. Their heart rates perkily rabid increased and potently affecting the frequent heart pulsations, hammering into their chests._

_"It was just fantastic,"Vowels and syllables lurching embarrassingly at snail's space on Kenneth's wet, strawberry-coloured tongue were almost dying on his tongue tip with an ease due to their hitched breathings and his lusciously cherub, plum lips pursuing his one-night stand lover's sanctum of insatiable succumbation. "Andrea! You're also doing surprising wonders." Seconds before sealing her lips with his, his colossal, delicate hand's fingers maneuvered to tuck a fistful of stray, greasy gilded strands behind her petite, flexible ear and fixating his amber brown jewels on her sheerly appealing facial attributes with its glossy sweat glimmering past his vision, whereas his other hand managed to cup her well-sculptured, averagely chubby cheek. In the meanwhile, their coated in bountiful layer of perspiration naked chests synchronized in featherly soft graze, mutually sharing warmness and Kenneth's kinkily thick, dark chest hair amalgamating with the peebled tiny, naturally mauve nipples due to the sanctuary of wondersome, divine intimacy they shared in the circle of lust and under Lillith's studious gaze._

_"I think we're doing equally wondersome wonders, honey!" Shortly after sealing one another's mouths in resiliently insatiable kiss, silencing the both young adults for a split second and the blatant slurps of savoring one another's mouths in waltzing tandem, subsequently they broke off the kiss and locking up each other's intensifying ogles as Kenneth was gentlemanly gently, tenderly fingering and twirling a fistful of perkily greasy aureate strands on his forefinger, his still hard crotch meagerly poking her inner thigh._

_In spite of it's been an hour since the duo united for first time in lustful intimacy that was for their hedonistic sport, the prostitute somehow sensed myriad of affectionate comfort and warmness into the Afro-American's company even though there have been abundance of gentlemen who've already passed altogether their one-night stand's journey with crawling in the bed like ferociously savage animals and reccuringly creasing the bedsheets. The majority of the prostitute's lovers for one night weren't keen enthusiasts of keeping themselves gentle and soft with their objects of hedonistic sexual desires at all and just shortly after they played their own cards right, consequently the sole task they're accomplishing was gathering their discarded attires and underwear just a couple of moments before fleeing her small household and throughout continuing their lives in the same way without turning their backs to the past and barely paying attention to the numerous of stranger ladies they've got laid for sole nocturnal episode._

_"It's true! It's better to not put anything above in its level than anything." Instantly, the young man bobbed his head in solemn agreement, his mouth lowly humming an absent-minded melodious tune and mumbling angelic anthems into the Wisconsian's ears, molting into its tunes and the comforting, filling the hollow's patchy gaps presence of the Afro-American. His warm champagne-stained breath tenderly brushed her flawlessly alabaster facial skin and fanned the facial tissues with its delightful delicateness. "It's like comparing the smart to the intelligent person. There is almost no difference just the definitions are slightly different." Jubilance in their hoarse chuckles didn't vanish momentarily while grinding their tongues and vibration bubbled up into their throats. The reccuring blinks in choir were photogenically delighting for the both juvenile adults while either the pauses or the resiliently serene doldrum was numbing the bedroom and the nightstand's lamp was partly illuminating the thickly, selflessly mantled in ebony room._

_"No shit, Kenneth!"_

_Lethal doldrum zipped their lips and sharing series of moments in pretty enjoyable hush in admirations of certain facial attributes and maintaining a timeless eye contact without sweeping off their featherly soft, vague smiles from their faces, partly illuminated with golden saturation._

_Although the Afro-American has portioned partly his hectic daily schedule from the jazz band up to his lover's bedsheets, he sensed the closure they mutually shared was rather marvelous for the pairing and he didn't have any intentions of returning at home for the rest of the night by following the breaking news, following his vegetarian diet consisting masticating whether vegetarian soup or salads and laying on his bed, blankly, glassily contemplating the dark cloaked-clad ceiling for hours and pensively overthinking his existence and the success in his jazz band as pianist, playing major role in the cover songs' instrumentals and composing its entertaining, smooth tunes. Moreover, his career as jazz pianist is ongoing for almost a half a decade and thanks to his friends, instead of wandering penniless and homeless the streets of Vermont without an exact direction._

_Furthermore, it wasn't a child's play for him to date a girl and most of all, sating her indulging, sore needs at all. No wonder once when he dated a young lady approximately his age a couple of years ago, they splitted up right on their first year anniversary just because of seeing her true colours._

_Even though the majority of his peers or at least the young men in their mid-20s were already happily married with adorable children and a spectacular woman of their dreams or on the contrary single parents, raising on their own their children._

_"Andrea, I've something to confess to you!" Stilling his amusingly warm, clammy palmed hand on her cheek and a handful of delicately nimble, long fingers tracing her well-carved, elegant cheekbone, the honey in his timbre was chanting lullabies to the single mother effortlessly, Andrea wrenched widened in awe her midnight black minerals, darted to his charming softened abruptly facial features, spellbinded not only by her ethereally youthful beauty, but also her golden and huge heart, oozing of rich goodwill, indisputable sympathy and maternal understanding which was perpetually taught to her from her inner belief when the life fated her to be a single mother and not having successful, everlasting relationship with her exes._

_"What would be your confession, darling?" The honeyed, friendly nickname sent paradoxal paroxysm to Kenneth's frail skeleton and warming the pit of his stomach, while knotting the nape of his delicate neck with her spidery palish fingers, whereas her mouth conjugated the velvety whisper with her Wisconsin lilt. The honesty was one of the crucial keys to the hooker's heart and platonically affectionate attaching to her spiritually and physically, no matter how flawless every human being was eventually._

_"As my favorite nun," The sheer sarcasm, vomited in the younger gentleman's utterance pause couldn't resist the older lady's healthy snicker and subsequently participating in the healthy laughter, pressing a doting peck on her temple. In the interim, the blonde captured between her front ivory, firm teeth her lower lip, thus grinding the sharpness to scrap the raw spot when their snickers no longer pitched the background, stifling the impending laughter. "I'm confessing to you that I really like you. I just want to get to know you more as person rather than physically."_

_"You know, Kenneth, your wish," The pause strongly triggered to zip their plumpish, naturally roseate lips whilst managing their noses to rub altogether in synchronizing tandem and melting into the tenderly feather-soft Eskimo kiss they mutually swapped, inhaling the inescapable fragrance of orgasm, human perspiration and lilacs' perfume, permeating in the sufficiently expansive room. "Is my command!" At the moment, the older woman smacked her lusciously rosy-coloured, plumpish lips to pepper his cheeks with affectionately assaulting kisses into which the younger man molted mellowly._

_"I know. I'm going to the kitchen to get for both of us cans of Big Red cherry soda, if you don't mind."_

_"O-Of course, I don't mind, honey!" All of a sudden, the young man hopped out of the double bed in no time and categorically heading towards the door to retire to the kitchen, in order to retrieve two cans of cherry soda. "Go for it!" Spreading widely her leanly long, unblemishedly marbled legs and squinting up lazily at Kenneth, who was collecting a handful of recklessly discarded garments to retreat to the kitchen and his deftly fingers were persistently working on putting on his steel blue sweater with narrowly round neckline, solely exposing his delicate neck and followed by his pair of comfy, practical light denim jeans after his charcoal gray pair of boxers, resisting his hungrily bulging manhood._

_When Kenneth was enough dressed up to cover his most pearly intimate part of his frame and diminish the chances of catching cold even some of the passing strangers startle at the vista of the fully butt-naked gentleman, his presence occupying the very kitchen for several seconds only, subsequently his feet were swaddled warmly shoed in comfy slippers in the jet-black corridor._

_Further, Andrea was somewhat a fan of soft drinks to satiate her crave for them and imbibing them once a week if she'd enough money to pamper herself, despite the financial issues she'd usually encounter as a single mother with regular sexual activity with random men for two deals. Carnal pleasure and money. A criminally corrupted way to sell her own body just to earn a few hundreds of dollars per an hour at least, depending on the customer, himself. Even though the single mother of an only child had the opportunity to conversate Kenneth a couple of times just like random questions what they like drinking usually or at least seldom, besides their favorite poses, what they're looking into every representative of the opposite sex as personality traits strucking them first and foremost and so forth other commonly intriguing questions, begging to share their honesty right away, anyway Kenneth wasn't very fond of soft drinks and he didn't even include it in his vegetarian diet._

_Without propping on the wall to poise his balanced posture while hopping up ruthlessly sloppy into the twain of convenient slippers, his impending destination to the kitchen was inexorable when his masculinely meek, hushing footsteps buzzed resiliently parlous even for the footstep detector or the shadows, encompassing him and hiding in the darkest corners of the rooms, supervising its loner in the nocturnal darkness. He was far from blatant to wake up Andrea's daughter Cassandra, who was already drifted off asleep, populating mindly the reverie's realm and dedicating to her slumber's richly productive imagination to depict the most bizarre pictures ever in her currently resting hurricane of thoughts. The young girl's mind and every ounce and scale of muscles, constructing her childish body wouldn't energetically properly functioning unless the sufficient quantity of slumber or rather, overnight rest is collected throughout the advancing nocturnal episode of late October's remaining days._

_When the Afro-American guided cautiously through his destination to the kitchen and slowing down his pace from the careless stroll to the stealthy tiptoeing while incessantly manipulating in synchronizing motion his figure, haphazardly timid he pushed the kitchen's door which was askewly opened and his crystal clear memory recalled the events even taking its place an hour ago even when sharing one of the most sultriest kisses with the Wisconsian they're both in the kitchen and trapped her seating on one of the empty counters._

_The nefarious creak of the somewhat opened door was dumped lightly swaying, whereas the Afro-American stepped inside the kitchen all alone and his fidgety, spidery fingers ushering to reach for the light switch until the void lightbulb, hovering above the dining table abruptly erupted celestially golden artificial light brightly illuminating even the darkest outskirts of the room which once fogged every visitor's vision with inevitable invincible ebony prospect._

_Meanwhile, the jazz pianist ambled up relaxedly up to the top freezer refrigerator until his freshly deft fingers were hooked around the charcoal black handle and drawing its compact top door towards him to be embraced by the sight of frostily cold two cans of Big Red with luxurious bountiful blanket of ice shards blanketing the freezer's surface._

_After scooping tenderly the cans of Big Red in his strongly muscly arm, his solely free hand pushed forward to slam into the top freezer with a vaguely, primly complacent smile brushing his plump lips until the nefariously vexing sound of broken window with its tossed stone, indicated in it's a handful of inches scaling size patched the lower segment of the windowglass and consequently the stone landing foolhardy on the shabby maroon kitchen rug._

_What in first place the jazz pianist could do was startling and quivering his body muscles though he's clashed even with capriciously dissatisfied customers of facilities who were even prone to attempt punch or slap him balefully due to their inhumane mindset. Fortunately, whether the owners of bars, restaurants or other type of facilities where the crowd was ginormous and majorly young adults or on the contrary, security guards were the crucial reason why Kenneth Tyresse was safe and sound even purely safe in the hands of the facility owners' and other people that were open-minded in general, besides maturely taking care of the patchy business with such hard-heartedly illiberal clients and dragging them out of their comfort zones._

_Although the young gentleman has never clashed with serial killers, his initial thoughts on the woe was one of the capricious customers found out that he's getting laid with an ill-famed hooker of Vermont. At the moment, Cayden was crouching down warily stealthy outside, in order to not draw attention from his imminent victim of his barbaric intentions, immersing his train of thoughts and frequently choiring in railing its vagons with his maliciously villainous intentions to harm innocents and ruining their lives._

_As soon as the woe befell with merciless apprehension the juvenile gentleman, consequently he dumped the canes of soft liquid onto the kitchen table as they sloppily slithered from his promising scoop and aiming to open the minorly broken window until it swung enough wide to the nocturnal illustration of the starlessly ordinary night in Vermont. In the interval, his amber brown cabochons, eagerly studying in a scrutiny the angle of his vision which landed on the wee hint of another stranger's presence, subtly hunkering down against the decently painted brick wall of the small household and reciting in a feverently disquiet mumble a prayer for safety._

_"__Father, I come to You today, bowing in my heart, asking for protection from the evil one," Knitting his fingers in the adequate pose for prayer, faintly dropping in bow his head and his forehead meagerly brushing the rich pair of fingers and the maniacally passionate blatant thumps into his toned, muscular chest were pulsating intensifyingly alarming tones into his ears. The anticipating heart attack at freshly fragile age was a common symptom of the unpredictable accident. Notwithstanding the circumstances, Kenneth wasn't quite pious and the only times when he's attending the church like the majority of every averagely pious follower was on special Christian holidays such as Christmas and Easter for example. Last but not least, his parents were fanatically religious so that they paid a visit to the church twice a week especially in the weekends._

_All of a sudden, the infamous Vermont serial killer straightened his posture gingerly, gracefully and surreptitiously climbing the brick wall, throughout snatching violently, slowly but surely the jazz pianist by his wrist, sending him shivers down his spine of chilly mortification and snapping tilted his head to encounter Cayden's sanguinely veiled-clad complexion and generous layer of perspiration gently glinting his temple. The beacon of the demise and vengeance was doing his own job._

_Charging a hand, fashioned in viciously balled fist was dodged by the Afro-American's nimbleness and writhing his grasped wrist until his only free hand attempted to smack a heavy slap across Cayden's face. Unfortunately, the Italian compatriot fastened with his coldblooded grasp and dodging the slap in unnatural swiftness, objecting every kind of physical attack and a wickedly infernal, unhealthily half-hearted snicker rolled out of his tongue tip._

_"Is that what you got," At the moment, Cayden's diabolical mockery jointed his utterance, flaring ferociously his tiny, vulnerable nostrils while quirking quizzically his eyebrow due to his imminent victim's weakness and inability even to strike somehow his tormentor somehow once at least. Series of punches were heedlessly aimed to Kenneth and his freshly juvenile swiftness welled in a raving fountain of adrenaline, pulsating into his body when the exceedingly imperiling moment with his clash with the Italian compatriot which mortified him to bones and couldn't even rest and think certainly clear for a single second. Restlessness inflexibly hazardous highlighted his facial attributes and his breathing was a frequence of hitchness, almost ethereally halting when multitasking with dealing with the villainous hazard that could even drain his life out of his mortal's body."Screw you!" Suddenly while dodging another punch from his tormentor, thus the jazz pianist leant down and subtly baring his ivory teeth to nibble the Italian compatriot's knuckle viciously. What Cayden could do was whimpering a sorely painful croak, scraping his throat and frail lungs, whereas his vocal stings were perpetually rusting, fraying due to the perpetually altering decibels, composing a woefully aching symphony of the whimpers. Meanwhile, the grasp released the Afro-American's wrist as he withdrew with an inch proximity, in order to retrieve a sufficiently honed up knife from the top drawer of the counter, whilst Cayden attempted to leap the kitchen window and within a couple of seconds later, the dumbfoundingly fleet reaction of the jazz pianist slitting lightly with the kitchen knife's edge the Italian compatriot's sporty leather jacket sleeved-forearm-clad was mildly slashing and leaving a daredevil knife's mark, imprinted on the attire's leather fabric and spurting minor blood like weakly running jet water in the wee slit incarnading the highly imperiled of its vulnerable surroundings to staining with variety of contaminating tarnishes especially his cashmere lily-white sweater, paired with his jet-black sporty leather jacket._

_"Stay away from me, psychotic retard!" Hissing the stammer with the sluggishly conjugated vowels in the most preaciously life-risky moment when he would be dead if the psychopath was armed with any sharp weapon or a revolver, whereas the psychopath shook his head and overlooking the minor slit imprinting his forearm, due to the fact, his adrenaline was furiously pumping into his veins and eagerly erupting his tall frame. "Do not make me slitting your foul skin again!"_

_"Just don't challenge me, kiddo!" After leaping unambiguously versatile over the kitchen window and landing on the kitchen rug, whereas the younger gentleman recoiled abruptly. Berserk echoing his mind to bloodthirstily, ruthlessly stab him abundance of times until his heart halts to function even faintly, his muscles cramped for lethal eternity and resting into pieces with a lavish bloodpool, generously carpeting beneath his motionless corpse. Nevertheless during the younger man's attempt to heinously sneak behind the older gentleman's shorter figure and spinning to face his foe, consequently the single father snatched dexterously with his marvelously versatile hand the kitchen knife with its baptized in vague blood edge, disarming solemnly his forthcoming victim. "I thought you could outsmart me." The heinously silent, husky whisper didn't awfully startle the jazz pianist who was retrieving another kitchen knife in self-defense, whilst the serial killer maneuvered a dark, thick eyebrow to arch surprisingly due to his foe's stubbornness to encounter the death which Cayden bloodthirstily, unholily coveted. "But do you think a second knife would save your life? What will happen if I just," During Cayden's attempts to stealthily yank Kenneth's clearly unused yet kitchen knife for either chopping or damages, consequently the Louisianian manipulated his charging body to bump into the Afro-American with entire strength and fastening with his weight the trap he set for him and lowering his knife to spear his abdomen. "Have the second knife but I still can count on the first one and use it to kill your stupid brainless body?"_

_"Fuck," In the meantime, the psychopath's pale-pinkish, chapped lips curved in a bloodily smug grin, baring his clearly ivory, firm teeth for his youthful age, although sharing with the Afro-American a handful of years difference and his coffee brown minerals starkly glinted victoriously, insatiably satisfaction, transfixed on the perpetually weakened large frame, consequently his round, leanly athletic knees brushing the wooden planked kitchen flooring and vague creak whispering as background noise. Kenneth's amber brown minerals wrenched widened in speechlessness as it pierced through the stabbed knife into his abdomen and parting his berry-coloured, cherub lips into a wide O, raising his eyebrows and his ears honed up in no time when the vindictively vile soundtrack of the psychopath's chuckle, jingling alarming tones. "You!" Stilling the second twain of kitchen knife in his reccuringly trembling hand, irresisting the cramps and the vengefully agonizing pain that thudded his muscles, his lips persistently crafted the inescapable expletive, whilst the Italian compatriot folded triumphiantly his strongly muscular arms across his chest and contemplating the blowmindingly satisfying vista of his victim succumbed in his pain._

_A quarter a minute of relentless doldrum was consuming the kitchen and stoicism wonderfully sketching the jazz pianist's facial features continuously and clumsily whisking his the sharp item to spear efficiently once his tormentor's inch at least, gritting his teeth to stifle the series of perfectly normal shrieks which would sail out of his mouth like stormy waves._

_"I-Is there a woman in your house?" Meantime, the mauler ushered his posture to bend past Kenneth's severely bleeding's torso, mimicking devilishly his inquiry that begged for an immediate answer. Regardless if he earns the answer he's looking for in a split second or within a handful of minutes, the uncannily critical moment for the jazz pianist was unevenly elapsing as if that was his very last moment to experience whether nonchalantly or on the contrary neglectingly. The integrity was a divinely essential key, regardless if a simple enquiry or his word was extraordinarily remarkable nonetheless. Even though Kenneth wasn't home at the moment and a medley of restlessness, stoicism and most of all, hesitancy sketched upon his freshly young-looking, charming complexion._

_"N-No!" Manipulating his throat muscles to devour greedily, refreshingly the salty lump bubbling up his Adam's apple, consequently his strawberry-coloured, wet tongue expelled the stammer with its forceful answer._

_"Liar!" After yanking the stabbed knife into his abdomen and strong-willedly belching forward cataract of gore, staining the wooden planked flooring with ocean of wee bloody red circles and the younger gentleman conjugated breathy groan under his breath, despite his headstrong attempts to not manifest even modicum of pain's affliction and the grasp of the second kitchen knife accidentally, idly flumping in an unknowledgable motion, clinking, afterwards during his clumsy tries to resist rain of attempted stabs, within a couple of seconds a fatal slit across the nape of his delicate neck with its seized incessantly bleeding, bulging erupting lake of blood overflowing and eventually molding a rich bloodpool, carpeting the writhing almost dead body which was struggling between the life and death, squinting up his grimaced face and woefully stoic glare graining his facial attributes momentarily. The jazz pianist's torso pitched heavily the notoriously creaky wooden planks, murmuring series of creaks as pitching background noise and lingering his seethed widened in paralization amber brown cabochons and his corpse permeating leisurely._

_What it hideously dumbfounded the younger man just a few minutes before finding his own demise in Andrea's kitchen was that she hasn't even ventured to flee her bedroom for example and pay a visit to the kitchen to check the ongoing bloody ruckus. What would happen if her deadly concerns erupted up her petite frame and most of all, her mind was somewhere else, questioning Kenneth's absence in the kitchen. Little did she know what may have happened to her one-night stand lover and most of all, why it took him slightly longer to scoop a handful of Big Red cans and just treasuring the rest of the night's elapsing time through long, deeply logical conversations that highly interested them and share cheers even sipping from their own soft drinks._

\- _A Few Minutes Later_ -

_A handful of minutes later after retrieving and getting dressed sufficiently humble to cloth the most intimate body parts, subsequently Andrea decided to retire to the kitchen since it's been awhile when her very presence has left her own bedroom._

_As soon as Andrea shut the bedroom door behind her in the partly ebony corridor and the docilely feminine footsteps of hers silently buzzed against the carpeted flooring, an eerie flat line tweaked with great deal of efforts at the corners of her naturally rosy-coloured, plumpish lips and somberly enveloping his porcelain, freshly young-looking complexion, her spidery palish fingers delicate glithered every swan curve of the walls which swam along with her with each motion._

_The diabolic shadows of the nocturnal daily episode which were also graciously mantling the dark corners of every property were amicably escorting her even in the loneliest moments when her daughter was profoundly asleep and drowning in her own sweet, imaginatively childish dreams, immersing her currently peacefully resting cells to reproduce anything imaginative or at least nicking the patches with a rationally logic._

_All of a sudden, frosty chills gouged her tissues and bones while reaching the askew opened kitchen door with its brightly illuminated room, itself. Hesitancy contracted her swan neck with a bitter lump, bubbling up her throat gradually when her hands commenced quivering in choir. Further, when her deftly long, slim fingers timidly tapped on the askewly opened door, consequently with a single, meek push it swung opened and giving her bigger scale of gap to peer subtly._

_Surveying in a scrutiny, whilst zipping her roseate, cherub lips in a thoughtful, careful purse, agreeable to not emit any kind of noises and her pools of midnight black peering inquisitively through the small gap and manipulating to roll them in inspecting quickly every corner of the kitchen especially the essentials morbidly chilled her until her gaze didn't lower to the corpse of Kenneth, baptized in opulent bloodpool and the idly swinging kitchen window wings like awkwardly flipping bird's wounded wings._

_"O-Oh God!" Vowels and syllables clashed toughly to construct themselves in a medley of frustration, immense disquietude, feeble powerlessness and pure melancholy prominently rammed her uncontrollable, inward sob after pushing the kitchen door to swing freely and hunkering down past her one-night stand lover's bloody corpse, glancing at his still bleeding slits. "N-No!" Her mind submerged with absolutely unremitting melancholic thoughts, can't get over how their naked fleshes grinded and grazed one another in synchronizing tandem a couple of minutes ago and now his flesh was lethally stiff, throughout staining her beautifully porcelain, freshly young-looking complexion with a crystalline heavy rain of tears, tumbling down her cheeks and drenching the jazz pianist's gruesomely emotionless face. "It's impossible! Kenneth, wake up," Abruptly diminishing the decibels which were perpetually camouflaging in threadbare fad due to her uncontrollable, rueful sobs breaking her facial expression, caressing and tracing with the pads of her delicate thumbs the curves of his well-defined, youthful cheekbones._

_The featherly soft autumn breeze assaulted the kitchen, whirling vaguely more potent than a handful of minutes ago and stilling its series of teasing slaps, blowing the prostitute's halo ringlet of sleek aureate tresses, framing her oval profile as her lips popped up haphazardly._

_The eerie ballad of crickets outside encompassed the small household with their serenely eloquent tunes, tingling serenity and electrifying goosebumps pricking the young lady's alabaster epidermis, consequently ducking her head to press a peck on her one-night stand lover's forehead, besides finding her own flimsy heart torn off on thousands of glassy pieces, cooling her once warmed chest and the pit of her stomach with mild nausea._

_Little did she know what has happened in the kitchen and most of all, who's the actual murderer that took the jazz pianist's life with his own bare hands in no time. Galore of questions swirled and twirled in the Wisconsian's train of thoughts at the moment, whilst inspecting the unsolved crime scene of Kenneth's demise. What it frustrated her to bones was how an innocent trip to the kitchen for collecting two cans of soft drinks would affect and most of all, turn somebody's life downward suddenly for worse._

_She'd get to know the deceased Afro-American even spend timeless hours together in galore of discussions about their pasts, childhood, former relationships and so forth. Literally anything that greatly interested them or at least aroused their passionate enthusiasm, lingering on their tongue tips and verging to be vomited and brought as main topics. Even if their chemistry was evidently stronger than before, they'd have a spectacular future as pairing or at least as decent friends, counting on one another even in the toughest, the least predictable moments and whenever somebody struggles with anything._

_Last but not least, the single mother of an only child was a keen fan of jazz and vintage music which were her very top preference for distraction or at least relieving her own nerves after having a hard, endlessly long day. The music was the key to her heart's vitality and chasteness._

_It was the first time when an unidentified psychopath has ventured into the single mother's property and committing a barbaric homicide with tracks of evidence such as two carelessly tossed kitchen knives, dumped on the wooden planked floor. Fortunately, one of the dumped kitchen knives was pristinely unused even blood-curdlingly clean and smooth unlike the other one with its thickly dripping lake of reeking gore._

\- _End of Flashback _-

\- _22nd of February, 1966_ -

Within a few hours after bathing, changing Edward Ralph's diapers and changing him into conveniently cosy garments for bedtime even lulling him to drift off asleep after being laid down to kip in his own crib with his favorite stuffed light brown teddy bear as Christmas present, the both former members of the church took a shower together and subsequently donned up their alabasterly glossy figures into conveniently warm pajamas, due to the relentlessly late February chilly climate, permeating their two-story mansion.

"Where yar going, sweetie?" After yanking her carelessly tossed, mapped in creases sinfully alluring silken wine red nighttie as her marbled petite frame was purely naked wasn't donned up in anything else except her plain charcoal gray panties embroidering partly her lusciously peachy buttocks and her drenched slit, throughout pulling it on her head and her lean arms drew forward shortly after the elegantly thin spaghetti straps secured her gracefully dainty shoulders and its graceful silky hem flaring across her mid-thighs. A fistful of headstrongly cheerful gilt tresses idly framed her round, full profile and bouncing with each motion.

In the meanwhile, the former pious man of the cloth's larger frame was already pyjama-outfit-clad and dusting the king-sized bed's cosy quilt on the left side, stilling his embroidered smartly beatific smile, tugged at the corners of his mouth as the palms of his masculinely mammoth, veiny hands headstrongly smacked a handful of harmless slaps across the quilt's fabric, thus smartening its bedtime prospect.

"Just going downstairs, you know!" Shortly after dusting off insistingly with his pristinely strong hands the quilt, the former man of the cloth ambled up to his fiancée and lingering his smoky quartz gemstones in awe at her magnificently seductive looks which were far from extravagant. Just a simple every man's dream or on the contrary, every man's informal bedtime especially during the inhumanely sweltering summer nights. The summer nights, fueled with sweltering heat even in the nocturnal episode of the day when the windows were essential certain opened every night to ventilate the stringently lukewarm reek of lacking freshness for hours at least even kicked it out of their bedroom like an unwanted demon with a prominent conjuring and exorcism. Bashing out the inescapable unbearably, barbaric nocturnal summer heat with the featherly soft summer breeze prickling the expansion of the room with its pleasantly waltzing bearable coldness, pricking their epidermis in delightfully electrifying goosebumps. Cradling their skins with nocturnal lukewarmness and consoling their temporarily unfunctioning muscles, bones and cells, collecting opulent or at least sufficient quantity of rest throughout the evening hours. "And didn't you remember whose stomach was wildly churning under the shower just a couple of minutes ago, did you?" When the both former devotional members of the church maintained pretty intimate proximity with each other, meanwhile, Timothy ushered the palms of his colossal, marbled creamy hands to cup her well-chiseled, healthily chubby cheeks as Judy melted tenderly into his gentleness, abruptly suffusing broadly her sympathetic smile, tattooed on her porcelain, elderly young-looking complexion. Their hearts leaped in sheer ecstasy.

"I did, while we're teasing ourselves under the shower and when my stomach growled aggressively," Pause stung on cliffhanger her utterance, whilst she manipulated her spidery palish fingers to lift up and subsequently claw her fiancé's brittle knuckles, admiring the medley of masculinity, security, warmness, love, affection and softness genuinely draining every ounce of negativisim, suicidal and negative thoughts even stress, fatigue and primness. His presence was just vibrantly comforting and far cry from balefully imperiling for her welfare and very being fragility. In the interim, her honey brown gems didn't cease to be darted to his smoky quartz, beautifully glimmering naked innocence, warmness, comfort, desire and love in a plenteously monumental miscellany like heavenly sanctum of a Gurdian Angel, always by her side to moor her with his own altruistic consolation, selflessness, rich variety of pieces of advices and stark love and most of all, crying on his shoulder whenever there were just battles which deserved slightly more time to be solved either with diplomacy, resilient versality or on the contrary, just embracing the inevitable circumstance of not winning every clash which didn't mean she wasn't weak at all, nor the strongest at all. There were just times when almost any single soul couldn't persevere even exquisitely earn its own victory. It was inescapable like everything! "And yet, ya were like let's save some warm water and save this for later rather than watching ya as hungry as a horse."

Suddenly the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer gingerly, gamely fingered and played with her fiancé's knuckles, elaborating a hoarse, perfectly healthy chuckle, grinding her tongue and thereafter slipping out of her mouth, overflowing the cataract of her heavenly euphoria and outgoing nature which she shamelessly manifested in front of the closest people from her inner circle like Timothy, Frank, her son Edward Ralph even Madeleine. Due to her excessive high spirited humor in the almost wee hours of midnight, the exquisite mimick of Timothy's quote when they shared an erotical shower with lathering their own artistically butt-naked bodies with soap and teasing one another's sexes with sultry passion, clearly indicated in their unavoidably unforgiving, steamy touches, ghosting their sensitive epidermises.

"That was because you haven't eaten for hours and we can make love to each other anytime of the day," Tracing delicately, cautiously her well-sculpted, divine cheekbones with the tips of his fingers and maneuvering his thumbs to knead them nonetheless, his pools of deep cocoa brown were yet in awe at the mesmerizing sight of his lover's casual looks and always being herself even when she's accompanying him or anybody else. The sole reason Jude would be donned up in anything superbly gracious outfits or be comfortably naked, because it was nobody else than the sole person who can even behold her nudity without getting embarrassed, besides Jude, herself. Moreover, the Bostonian wasn't smartening her looks because of anybody else except Timothy, howsoever, it was essentially because of respecting her own needs and skin with indulging herself with comfy attires which there wasn't a particular age to be clothed in unless it's up to every individual like her. Her casually tied in a messy bun with a fistful of radiantly jaunty gilt curly strands were framing her round, full profile like doll, paired with nothing else than her sinfully seductive wine red slip, attractively contouring her swan curves and vaguely limping breasts due to her pregnancy, drastic weight changes and breastfeeding almost a toddler. "But the health and our basic needs are more important though our sex life isn't for underestimating at all."

"That's true!" Inhaling the superb fragrance of honey soaps that have lathered their bare fleshy muscles a handful of minutes ago under the reccuringly running jet waters of the shower head like heavy rain, pouring down and soaking every ounce of their very being. In the interval, the duo sealed one another's insatiably delighting lips in a brief, sultry kiss and thereafter molting their nuzzles in a delicate Eskimo kiss when their noses featherly soft danced in tandem waltz, wrenching shut their eyelids for a split second and relishing every moment of their overwhelmingly unspeakable romance and intimacy. Within a couple of seconds, they broke off the kiss and withdrew their faces with an inch to maintain an enough proximity, in spite of its closeness they mutually sealed with their mutual warmness, swapping in warming tandem and radiantly beatific beaming at each other. "Yar such a lovely handsomer!"

"You're actually the beauty there and I won't leave my beautiful rare bird to starve." Lingering the pad of his swan thumb to gingerly, featherly soft brush her lower naturally plum, plump lip slowly but surely, whereas maneuvering his other hand to lower behind her spine and drum affably, lightly her peachy, well-curved buttocks, scarcely resisting to swap a healthily guttural chuckles, dripping from their mouths. "Stay there as I'll zap the slices of pizza within a few minutes only."

Within a quarter a minute, the British compatriot already fled the bedroom which he shared with his girlfriend and the frequence of his humdrum footsteps ghosting the infamously squeaky wooden planked flooring and the stairway to the first floor choired, in spite of his attempts to keep himself quiet and not wake up due to his careless brashness his five-month-old son, who was deeply, marvelously asleep in his own bassinett in his room.

When his impending destination in the kitchen was remarkably marked with his arrival, stepping inside and finding Stephen beside his bowl with remaining scale of cat food, immersing the surface, sigh of relief snarled Timothy's nostrils, tugging tighter the weak, benevolent smile inking his handsome facial features, glistening in the brightly yellow illuminated kitchen and the light allowing the vista of the kitchen ambience sheen past his smoky quartz embers, blazing their own richness and coziness.

The incensed hungriness in Stephen's chunks of cat food sealing his petite jaw were incessantly, monotonously grinded until they were eventually, persistently gradually fragmented and quantified in much smaller scales, occupying his throat and oral caverns and efficiently swigged.

In the interim, the British aristocrat retrieved from the lower counter drawer two mere, unused yet plates by setting them on top of the counter and subsequently opening the giant box of family-sized pizza with exquisitely separated slices until he doesn't scoop two slices of them warily with the spatula per a person one slice at least, in case, if anybody between him and Judy want a bonus slice, either of them can always organize a small expedition to the kitchen for a handful of minutes anytime unless they're delightfully sated and pleased.

When the British aristocrat put the first plate in the plugged microwave to nuke for a half a minute the slice of pizza and adjusting the settings finely, thereafter the microwave commenced droning humdrum and indicating every elapsing second until the meal is eventually nuked at last. Shooting a glance at the charcoal black kitten who's already finished with his meal and ushering his wet, tiny tongue to sponge his jaw, while crouching down past his tiny body to pet his fluffily soft head down to his skinny tail and then gently gouge with his small, neatly trimmed fingernails behind his big ear, whereas the kitten purred adorably, smoothly, molting into his owner's mellow affection and warmness which he earned.

"Good boy! I'm sure you're well-fed." Whilst his naturally baby-pinkish, plump lips chanted a mellow, silver-tongued hum, amalgamating with the delightful kitten's pur, at the moment the two-month-old cat wrenched shut his huge, round eyelids and genuinely treasuring each golden moment when his owner could bestow him affection, attention and warmness. "I'm proud of you for being so strong even when we paid a visit to the vet clinic three days ago." The delay of the honeyed hum was lurching during the stubborn construction of the syllables and vowels, conjugated by the strawberry-tongue of the former devotional priest emboldening optimistically his pet for the great achievement, in fact, the majority of whether foster or domestic pets weren't very fond of paying a visit to the vet clinic and their antagonizing jitters were cooling their wee anatomies, despite their owners' optimistically encouraging words, sugarcoated in honey. "It's totally alright to be apprehensive even mewling desperately, but you were brilliant as always and teaching a lesson to the fear that was once living inside you like a demon." The sole sound that the foster cat could craft with his wee mouth was series of serenely elating meows, jingling angelic anthems into Timothy's ears and warming the pit of his stomach. "I agree! We should fight our demons and you outsmarted your demons, honey!"

Once the microwave zapped the first slice of pizza in the plate and halted functioning its headstrong frequence of drones, afterwards Timothy straightened his posture to take care of the food but shortly before thinking twice to touch the microwave with his filthy hands after dedicating a half a minute even a full minute of tenderness to the charcoal black kitten, consequently he turned the kitchen sink's faucet on and the dull splash of its running jet water soaked his mammoth, creamily vanilla hands up to the wrists until he lathered with marigold soap up to his wrists, sea of vanilla bubbles with the seductively potent fragrance of marigolds permeating in the kitchen and amalgamating with the lusciously insatiable aroma of freshly warmed pizza. Shortly after drenching the thick coat of lathered hands and baptizing them with fresh, lukewarm and daubing them in the kitchen towel and turning off the faucet, afterwards his attention was utterly shifted to the microwave and the second plate, awaiting the same quantity of time until it nukes at last.

Within a handful of minutes of microwaving the second plate with a single slice of pizza, throughout the former clergyman fled the kitchen and towered the stairway to the second floor and entered in his bedroom while scooping warily the plates with their freshly warmed dinner meals as Judy dashed up to him as her petite, vanilla bare feet ghosted in short versatile steps the featherly soft bedroom's carpeted flooring.

"Hey, hey, I'll take care of either of them! Don't think of dealing with two plates of pizza slices in a New York minute!" Shortly after her spidery delicate fingers elegantly entwined around the porcelain material and carrying it up to the left side of the king-sized bed and setting it on the nightstand, collectioning it with the partly illuminating their romantic sanctum nightlamp, the both former members of the church ventured to join the expansive space they shared altogether every night whenever they're home except for a couple of exceptional nights such as the prominent St. Valentine's night when they slept in the cab due to their adventorous journey from the restaurant and bar up to the nigh lake.

"You're so selfless and cosseting me, Sister!" At the moment, the younger man's naturally strawberry-coloured, plumpish lips curved into the jeer, retreating to the king-sized bed and one of his hands' long, pristinely slim fingers dancing around the porcelain plate, whilst grappling with his other hand his own slice of pizza and bringing it to his mouth until his still firm, ivory for his age teeth excroated his very first bite, munching it continuously until his tongue wisely, slyly forged another utterance. The extra weight encumbering his broad, muscly shoulder of his fiancée dropped her head on his shoulder blade warmed additionally the pit of his stomach, whereas his teeth strong-willedly grinded and synchronizing munch of the first bite until it was granulated on tiny, insatiable chunks which were chugged eventually.

"I would always anything do for ya, Monsignor!" Shortly after munching untiringly her first bite, the blonde glimpsed at her lover, flashing him a cocksurely mischievous grin, blooming upon her pizza-greased-smeared mouth, whilst her deliciously sticky pizza-greased smeared fingers were inching her chin, steadily grasping her dish.

Even though it's been almost a half a year since their presences no longer occupied the true definition of hellhole, where they had not only great deal of brilliantly unblemished memories as business partners and maintaining a platonic with romantic intentions friendship, but also their own tough times and most of all, railing through the vagons the intesifyingly dynamic nightmares where they the least were comprehending one another which wasn't parallel to their ultimate separation, anyway they were keen of mocking one another with their former ecclesiastical titles they reveredly wore in the previous chapter of their lives that they wish they wouldn't executed it as their own lifestyle for the rest of their days.

Lifestyle, plonking it almost a year ago and depriving them from utterly experiencing every remarkable segment of their life as adults in their midlife stage such as wedlock or at least partnership, adopting or at least bearing their own child and rising it on their own, imbibing certain quantity of liquor, being involved in sexual acts and so forth which the church violently enforced them strictly to not break their own vows that were once solemnly took with their compound with God's world and realm.

"I've always appreciated your support and care, Jude! You don't have any idea what's the feeling of being nurtured."

"I do it essentially for ya and our ray of sunshine, because I've never been treated like that when I was a child or even younger." Suddenly, the blonde gulped sluggishly the bittersweet, solid lump that contracted her throat and light-heavy, crystalline tears rimming her incessantly blinking in choir caramel brown cabochons, evading to maintain an adequate eye contact with the younger gentleman, rueful bittersweetness swaddling her revelation icily and ducking faintly her head, gawking jadedly, glassily at her own dish. It broke her heart how her gloomy past was nothing compared to the recent life she's living now at the moment. Miraculously, the only things the former pious sister of the church possessed and most of all, brightened vibrantly, beatifically her life and illuminating the path to light and ultimate felicity were the only family she had even if it's not that big, howsoever, it's promisingly altruistic and harmonic with a fiancé and an infant on the cusp of toddlerhood along with a sonly adopted animal from the relentlessly frosty winter night, besides the unconditional love, warmness and the property of her dreams were formulating her bare happiness. Despite the past was far cry from bringing it back and the Bostonian wasn't even able to alter it at least, nevertheless, the present was never too late to resume it and strongly looking forward for the imminent series of vibrant moments and experiences that awaited her sooner than later.

"You don't have to do it for me and you and Edward are just enough for me to be happy and nurture me with your shining happiness and smiles, permeating your gorgeous lips!" In the meanwhile, Jude brought the slice of pizza to her lusciously cherub, pink lips to graze a second, medium-sized bite and subsequently nibbling it in docile, humble hush. Last but not least, it's inexorably obvious for the British compatriot noting his rare bird's despondency in her formulated revelation.

"Timothy, ya haven't lived a fucking life where nobody grants you the love or at least the warm tenderness which every person deserves it!"

"But at least, I know what it feels like living in a family where your father is just a plain pain in the neck and your brother moving away just because of him."

"That's sucks anyway! I just don't want neither of ya having the same experience as mine!" A sharp exhale unloaded the Bostonian's frail ribcage after munching insistingly the second bite of her meal, flaring aggressively her nostrils at the recalling segment of their conversation they shared not a long time ago when they're discussing Timothy's father and the tough dilemma even after Timothy's older brother, John paid for the car damages and the unfair treatment he still harvests from his father's irreconcilably recalcitrant character. "It's like watching either ya or our lovely cherub angel going through the same shit and following my steps into the darkness," Pause seared her tongue and savoring its bitterness lacing her oral caverns gracing the wise caution what the least she would love to behold her small family's future and pursuing eagerly her steps to the darkness where the escape was minimally guaranteed for her as a lucky survivor. She'd detest beholding anybody from her inner circle having similar experience as hers or on the contrary jeopardizing themselves. She'd detest witnessing their sore pain and agony, imprinted on their facial expressions like freshly inked and healing tattoo with its unrefinedly extraordinary oil contouring every petty detail, besides scarring their flimsy hearts. It would be unforgiving seeing either Timothy or Edward Ralph as the closest people to her heart being prisoners of their low-spirited, dark fate with no escape except relying on their luck or on the contrary their rationality and stamina. "Where the escape is minimally guaranteed to save either of you. Needless to mention, what is being a prisoner of an undeserved destiny which isn't yar fault at all." Meanwhile, after moistening her jaw with her wet tongue and sponging the hideously tasty mantle of greased pizza across her lips, thus the former licentious jazz nightclub singer lewdly inserted her forefinger and middle finger, pronging a gap between her lips and squinting up her crystally rimming pools of deep hazels at his freshly young-looking, handsome face.

"I love how caring you're actually for me and our lovely cherub angel, but do you know what it was worse in my family's case if you ask me?" When it was Timothy's turn to bestow the sequel of their discussion, suddenly his façade's position punctured his seriousness and nonchalance, paired loyaly altogether in his rhetorical inquiry, lingering his chocolate brown orbs darted to her hazelish-brown, whereas the former licentious nightclub singer meekly, modestly managed to shake her head in solemn disagreement, eagerly anticipating her boyfriend to leak more personal stories about his family and each fragment, fragmenting their history. Even when Judy was all ears and attentively listening to the British compatriot's position, her berry-coloured tongue was strong-willedly, strenuously sponging the greasiness of pizza chunks, dumped on her digits and fingertips, plucking widened her huge, round honey brown gems.

"Anything related with yar brother and father again?"

"Not exactly, but it's related with my mom and younger sister Anna! Nobody didn't expect Anna to be as vain as my mother is," Although Timothy dumped his plate of unfinished slice of pizza on his side nightstand and yanking warily from the upper drawer the tissue and retrieving cleanly pristine napkin to daub the tackily lubricated with smearness pizza leftovers his fingers, chin and palms, shifting his attention for a split second to the tissue until the drawer was slammed and recklessly dumping the already used tissue, pursuing for his girlfriend's enticingly inquisitive stare. "I mean they're both related and Anna has always been my mother's favorite child in our family along with me and John."

"But," Shaking her head, whilst Timothy headstrongly curled his pristinely strong, delicate fingers around his temple and consequently manipulating his fingertips to rub his temple's tissues to prevent the migraine and the nausea which flushed his neck and the pit of his stomach with toxic frigidity at the unspeakable memory of his adolescence when his mother was cheating on his father with Marie's co-worker. "I thought anybody from yar family is much better than yar lousy father."

"Jude, nobody is saint from my family," An eerie flat line blurred any patterns of mirth and emotions, flattening his nude pink lips while gingerly, softly playing and fingering his fiancée's luxurious lion mane of flossily healthy gilded tresses, admiring the crispy softness of her mane as the blonde genuinely molted in, whimpering series of painfully genial purs, buzzing her mouth. "I wish there was at least one normal person like my brother John, but even Anna and Marie have their own flaws like every one of us. Marie, my mother cheated on my father when I was a high schooler just to piss him off for begging John to pay for the car damages. It was with a co-worker of hers and it really rose up the bile in his throat." In the interval, the older lady's drying tears ebbed off her porcelain, still youthful complexion in no time whilst honing up her ears to be all ears about the former priest's past, swallowing hard. "It happened the same thing with my sister Anna. She cheated on her boyfriend when she was only twenty years old, in order to annoy her boyfriend for his obsessive nature which he acquired in the beginning of their relationship."

"I'm completely sure yar mother and Anna did a good job teaching a lesson to those men for being such pricks such as forcing yar brother to pay for the car damages and Anna's boyfriend for his criminal zealousy."

"I think you're probably right, but Anna was undeniably loyal so that to arouse any hints of envy in him as a partner."

"Is that how yar mother and sister are related?"

"Fairly certain!" Notwithstanding the calling circumstances of the adultery, what it bone-chillingly flabbergasted the pairing was that how long Marie and James's marriage is continuing to be concurring with the absolute reality up to nowadays, despite the tribulations they've been through for example. "Anna would never cheat on her boyfriend Harold who's now her husband. He would do anything for her now, but back then Harold was just a pure toxin and always doubting my younger sister and calling her a slut, a whore and whatever you would think of a vulgar insult." Meanwhile, nausea swamped the pit of their stomachs with bubbling toxic liquid which almost immersed the consumed chunks of food. Sheer grimace grained their facial attributes and blanching their natural facial tones with unnatural ghost palish nuance. It broke the duo's flimsy hearts even highly affecting the violent thuds in their chests especially when the vulgar language was forged by the British aristocrat's tongue, stilling his fingers twirling and curling the old Hollywood gilded curls around his digits gamely, delicately. "After cheating on him, they're separated for a while and they got back together like three years later when Anna finished psychology in Glasgow's university."

"I think she moved in Glasgow for a few years, because of that dumbass and he doesn't have the right to call her anything that doesn't even labeling her." Even when the former pious woman of the cloth opted to overcome with consperative theory behind the former clergyman's younger sibling temporal emigration far away from her family and abusive boyfriend, meantime, the the younger gentleman managed a solemn nod in strong agreement, affirming his lover's words. Stilling the austere frown, jointing the corners of her mouth, whilst Timothy reopened the top drawer of his nightstand to hand Jude a tissue, in order to get rid off the muddy coat of pizza greasiness, yet lubricating with its own stickiness her fingers and nude pink, plumpish lips. "It reminds me of the same thing with Casey though I have never cheated on him, but he's the one who's utterly responsible for the damn adultery." Once she bobbed her head gratefully for the offered tissue, thus the Bostonian manipulated the clean surface to debaub initially her unbearably clammy fingertips and pads of her dainty, creamy fingers, whilst the younger man leant his head to nuzzle his fiancee's long mop of old Hollywood golden curls, framing her round, full profile after a couple of minutes after untying her messy, casual bun and dumping her sling for supporting the weight of her weightless messy bun. "I'm talking about the bad words which he labeled me. And your sister did a good thing for moving in Glasgow and I wouldn't suggest her to get back into such an abusive relationship with a man, who always doubts in her and calls her anything just to hurt her feelings."

"I told the exact thing to Anna, but her blind love and naivety didn't save her at all even three years later after graduating from the Glasgow's university and coming back in London, reuniting with Harold."

"Did that prick treat her better?" What it beyond hurt the couple was how they're discussing a logically rational, profound discussion where Jude and Anna's relation was potently connecting them, although the different types of ordeals they've been through abusive relationship. It hurt the Bostonian how her fiance's younger sibling was still forgiving and gracing her contemporary husband that used to be the extremely jealous boyfriend an unavoidable second chance. Was it possible even to grace somebody with a second chance even when they the least deserved after your mind was pelted crudely with series of harassment that were untruly labeling an individual and they were far cry from the absolute reality of their façade, besides just attempting to test anybody's patience with cheating on them just to bug them off even more due to their erupting volcano of toxic envy? This controversial question was begging for more time to be resolved by the duo and their thoughts gradually gearing and building the alternatives that might be sufficiently rational as responses.

"Yes for my own surprise even a few years after leaving him just to finish her education and to have a fresh start." Despite the depths of the topic they peaked gravely, anyway the former sister of the church still wondered quizzically how Timothy has never addressed her with mortificating nicknames for women that were usually stapled emphatically, mercilessly without thinking twice about her feelings and humor at all. Moreover, even when Jude wasn't exactly in a romantic relationship with Timothy shortly after getting her out of Briarcliff's morbid madness and granting her a luxurious home to share with each other a roof and sanctum of comfort and coziness for the rest of their days along with their love child, besides breaking the love of her life's heart by gifting blindly her trust to nobody else than an untrustworthy ill-famed serial killer of Vermont though her lacking knowledge about his malicious crimes unless she witnessed the true horrors inside his property right on her first date with Cayden. "Three years taught them patience and most of all, Anna deserved break and her break finished once she got back in London and bumped into Harold shortly after reuniting with me and my brothers and my mother."

"That's pretty messy dilemma, I've to admit! But how is possible Anna to be such a forgiving soul after her nowadays husband had treated her unfairly as if she's doing something dubiously behind his back?"

"Probably that's because I and Anna share so much in common when it comes up to forgiveness and the people we sincerely love." Clearing with a gruffy cough his throat, thereafter his button nose lingered its featherly soft, dainty nuzzle against her long mop of sinfully satin, unruly gilt curls, fingers and twirling continuously a fistful of strands on his digits playfully, gentlemanly. "In fact, we're the youngest heirs in our family and our mom has taught us the patience and forgiveness is the key to win the eternal love even if this person we frankly love had hurt us the most." What it abstractly mesmerized the middle-aged lady was the former devotional man of the cloth's reply and the sheer, versatile rationality accenting his utterance, resuscitating the freshness of his vortex of thoughts. "And if it's worth the patience and forgiveness for the person that has hurt you and not getting tired of him, therefore it's just a challenge for you how wisely you will choose either to continue this fight or otherwise give up."

"Darling, ya don't have any idea how much I hurted you earlier this month especially when ya and Maddie were,"

"Do not make me repeat myself, because I knew what you will exactly say that it's your fault when I and Maddie were the ones that knew the only one and clear," When the blonde finished with bedaubing her hands and chin, thereafter the tissue and plate of her pizza leftover were motionlessly swaddled on her nightstand, readjusting her position to pin with lay her weightless body onto Timothy's, her earlobe barely brushing his toned, muscular chest with its furiously intensifying soundtrack of heart pulsations, hammering her head and ear, draping lazily her alabaster, lean arms around his upper back for tender snuggle. "And naked truth! We knew how dubious Cayden was, but it's not your fault at all. It's just history, itself, that was one-off when you had closer contact with him and he will earn what he exactly deserves sooner than later."

"I'm still questioning yar forgiving nature and ya weren't like yar sister's boyfriend to call me a whor-"

"Shh, shh, shh," Whilst the middle-aged woman's mouth was muffled, immune to bleat the blatant whimpers and murmurs under her breath as the British compatriot clamped softly her feminine jaw with a colossal, protective hand, his solely free arm was snaked around her waist and tightening its grip, pressing a dainty, mellow peck on top of her head and gingerly resting his chin, humming the honeyed, reassuring shushs. "It's untrue whatever you would call yourself, because you aren't a whore. You're the most beautiful and spectacular woman I've ever laid eyes on in my whole life." In the meantime, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer averted her stare for a split second from the younger man, barely trembling her muscles until their monumentally outstanding silhouettes were uncommonly reflexed on the wall, mirroring their double selves in shadow forms though her invisible giant angelic wings and halo were accompanying the former nun's somber silhouette unlike hers where the contrast was brilliantly distinguished themselves from each other. Devilish horns adorned his scalp along with the honed tail, unknowledgably matching with his personality trait that might be associated with his inescapably chasing demons that were coming from the past and still chasing hungrily his victim unless the nemesis is completed. Is there a possibility the former pious clergyman's possession to be true and Mary Eunice's once vile essence that corrupted every cell and muscle of hers has actually contaminated one more vulnerable soul to spiritual possession? Even if it wasn't a possession, at least what kind of a mystery is an infernal silhouette being transmuted into a humanoid form? Which one of the seven deadliest sins was representing the British aristocrat? Ocean of unanswered questions swirled and twirled into the middle-aged woman's train of thoughts recurringly.

\- _Two Days Later or So _-

\- _24th of February, 1966_ -

It took two days and two nights for the duo to finish their family-sized pizza and earlier today's announcement from the former nun about the organized wedding which is within a handful of weeks solely was delivered to her inner circle.

Just after finishing her full-work time shift in the flower store in the company of her new employees Andrea and Cassandra, consequently Andrea retired back at Cassandra's property to spend more time with her grandchildren, whereas her daughter spends more time with her new friend with whom they're getting pretty along,

In the past two days, the horde of women spent their leisure time during their ongoing shift in the flowerstore in logically, rational even personal conversations, getting to know one another and Judy and Andrea quickly became doted on one another for Judy's surprise, due to the fact the single mother of an only child shares some things abysmally in common with the Bostonian.

As soon as the Wisconsian along with her daughter, the Michiganian and Frank's news about the approaching wedlock were gracefully delivered to them, therefore they couldn't get enough of their childlike, murderous euphoria outsmarting them and contaminating them like a lethal plague.

Even after Madeleine and Cassandra were already released to have the ultimate freedom to organize their own evening and refilling their hectic daily schedule, the both juvenile ladies ventured in one of the nigh stores, searching for a presentably elegant outfits which they're going to be donned up on their friends' wedlock that was due in late March, besides abstractly altering their evening by not going directly at home and spending modicum of their times in building their platonic friendship with personal conversations and friendly interactions even hanging out more often like going in the near clothes stores like every woman with huge mania for shopping, cafeterias, restaurants, hosting each other in their own homes and so forth.

"_There ain't no good in our goodbye-in'__! __True love takes a lot of tryin'__! __Oh, I'm cryin'__! __Let's hang on to what we got__! __Don't let go girl, we got a lot__! __Got a lot of love between us__!_" _Let's Hang On_ by _Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons_ was recently playing on the radio inside the garments' store as the vocalist's eloquent voice was chanting the song lyrics fluently, expressively to pitch the background and entertain every visitor for doubling the atmosphere while rummaging restlessly the clothes' racks throughout their shopping journey.

"What kind of outfits are you exactly looking for, Cass?" At the moment, the Michigan's lilt of the Michiganian punctured her velvety posed question, squinting up her hazelish-brown jewels at her friend, furrowing her eyebrows quizzically as her posed question begged for an immediate response and the juvenile duo was inside a small store for garments with rich choice of appealingly elegant garments from tops to pair of trousers and shoes. Moreover, during the early evening's part of the day, there weren't abundance of clients for their own luck to suffocate them with chatters and their own shenanigans, verging to bring them a piercing headache for the rest of the night.

"Something simply and fashionable." The bashful Vermont lilt punctured the light brunette's utterance, managing to slam her front ivory teeth between the raw spot of her lower plump lip, nipping recurringly, dully whilst shooting a glance at the Michiganian with a vague sheepish smile, slowly but surely thrieving upon her naturally plum, plump lips.

"Didn't you mean simply fashionable, Cass?" After nudging mischievously, kindheartedly her elbow, thereafter the both women couldn't help but elaborate a healthily guttural snicker, ditching their chests and pitching their own compact world, amalgamating with the further background noises of the passing strangers' chatters outside the store and the uneven footsteps of the seller, pensively glimpsing at her customers from time to time, in case, if they struggle with finding something suitable for their taste, consequently always reckoning her help as bonus.

"Fair enough! Let's get started, Maddie!" As the both women aimed to the both clothes rack beside them, throughout they were rummaging and examining in a studious scrutiny every garment such as pair of trousers, jeans and slacks even tops, regardless their sleeves' length and neckline variety's types even their fabrics, embroidering the attire. During their very first attempts to rummage the clothes' racks and their mild like for a couple of clothes that attracted their attention eyecatchingly, the inevitable disappointment roughly contoured their facial features though the ghosting motto to chin up and resume their research for the planned wedlock outfit or at least fragments of the formal occasion's suit lastly.

"Holy damn! I don't even know what we're even look-" All of a sudden, the seller participated in their company without even poking either of them, in order to double their unpredictable startledness from the store's owner and her metaphorically comforting presence ghosting their petite-frames surreptitiously.

"Excuse me, young ladies! Are you looking for something specific?" The haphazardity in the amiable Vermont lilt of the seller flinched the duo as they emphatically turned to face the clothes' store owner abruptly, offering her a benevolently vibrant smile, curling upon their cherub, naturally roseate lips. The owner of the garments shop was a young lady in the beginning of her thirties. She stood exactly 5'5 and her body structure was slightly plump. First and foremost, her obsidian black bob haircut with its exquisitely straight, glossy strands framed her heart-shaped, parchment face. Her skin tone was vaguely tanned, intriguingly matching with her obsidian black bob haircut, expressivelessly thin eyebrows and pools of abysmal apple green which were enormous, round and vibrantly contrasting in expressions towards her eyebrows. Last but not least, the older woman was smartly dressed in chiffon bright red with white polka dot shirt, paired with charcoal black slacks embroidering her leanly fit legs and knee length midnight black boots with a dark denim vest, guarding her chest. Her name was actually Ruth Avery McClaine.

"_Hang on, hang on, hang on__! __To what we got [doo-doo doo-doo doo-doo]__! __You say you're gonna go and call it quits__! __Gonna chuck it all and break our love to bits__! __(Breakin' up) I wish you never said it__! __(Breakin' up) No, no, we'll both regret it__!_"

"Well, we're looking for either elegant element to match with anything part of a formal event or rather a formal outfit," The suddenness of Ruth Avery's sympathetically feather soft smile embroidering her bright red-painted lips was rather soothingly assuring for the younger ladies as Cassandra jointed at her lungs a refreshing sigh of relief, nibbling her upper lip subtly.

"I see. I can help you, of course!" In the meanwhile, Ruth Avery ushered with a hand her recent customers to escort her to the other clothes' rack with the formal events' elegantly presentable outfits and suits which the shop offered, stilling optimistically her sympathetic smile, highlighting her light-heavy wrinkles due to the relentless aging process.

\- _A Month Later or So _-

\- _26th of March, 1966_ -

Within a month after strongly looking forward for the wedding day and its arduous plans, envolving the both former members of the clergy's legitimate wedlock finally unlocking them ethereally timeless opportunities and earning less heinously abhorred looks by strangers for having an extramartial love child due to the balefully tenacious society standarts when seeing families with unmarried parents having their love childs.

The weather was improving and sending away the menacing winter's frosty segments as if they're solely part of the history and embracing with open arms the very first early morning's silver-tongued, sweet birdsongs pitching the background and the freshly, apocalyptically flourishing nature, whilst waking up boldly from its wintering throughout the elapsing months.

When the wee hours of the morning approached quicker than summer breeze, the couple got up earlier by taking showers and having a breakfast with their son and kitten and thereafter washing the already used, smeared in food chunks and filth silverware eating tools and dishes.

Even though Anna hasn't announced her brother and her sister-in-law when she's going to visit Vermont, howsoever, the psychologist rather preferred to surprise them especially after acknowledging their wedding day to pay for motel.

After breakfast, Madeleine in the company of her brother Roman, Cassandra, Andrea, David with his children Kathy and Jack arrived in seven and a half o'clock in the morning, whilst Andrea, Anna, Frank and Mother Claudia had an arranged appointment to encounter the guests in the church which was the nearest within an hour.

Even when Cassandra, Edward Ralph and Madeleine were accompanying the Bostonian in the bedroom which she shared with the former ambitious Monsignor, nevertheless, Roman and David were escorting him unlike Jack, Kathy and Andrea who were awaiting for the sonly-married couple and other wedlock guests' arrival downstairs as they were spending time with Stephen by petting his fluffy, soft head and babytalking to him.

"Hasn't somebody told you you have a glamorously silken hair," Lowly droning a melodical dron, curving upon her gracefully peach-pink painted lips, Madeleine's spidery marbled fingers were draped and tightening the grip around the former nun's brush, gently and slowly but surely brushing her disheveled long mop of stubborn golden curls, whilst seating beside the dressing table and Madeleine was in front of her, admiring the crispy softness of the middle-aged lady's hair which she'd dream for years to have in her forties. At the moment, Cassandra was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed, scooping securely, dotingly Edward Ralph who was donned up in a formally gentleman, suave suit and frequently rocking him up in her leanly marbled arms, providing him maternal comfort and warmness, nuzzling his prominent button nose as she bended her head. "Judy?" Velvety Michigan lilt punctured Madeleine's address to the former pious nun, a fistful of disheveled, lavishly aureate tresses grazing her delicate palm, resting her chin on her shoulder blade.

"Nah, that's not true!" At the moment, the former licentious nightclub singer's Ravish Me Red painted lips crafted the mimicked jeer, raising an arch of her thin, dark eyebrow whilst the Michiganian was brushing the strands just before putting her gracious lily-white fishnet veil to adorn her profile.

"What a turdsandwiched liar with another lie on top of lie!" The juvenile blonde's strawberry-coloured, wet tongue forged the jeer, managing a faint, featherly soft mischievous slap to thud her delicately feminine, dainty shoulder blade. "I'm sure anybody who sees your hair or at least thinks about it always yearns to have such mane of glossiness and gold pouring on their heads!" After brushing delicately the retrieved fistful of tresses, afterwards the Michiganian leant down to press an amiable peck on the middle-aged lady's creamy, well-sculptured cheek. "Don't you ever dare thinking that your wight of fugliness and saying it out loud, coming from your lips!" Paradoxal paroxysm and shivers cooled the middle-aged lady's pit of her stomach and spine with mild embarrassment and sweltering heat coating her twin cheeks after pinkness tickling her facial skin and incarnadining it instantly when the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman peach-pink painted lips sponged Judy's earlobe, delivering the whisper in velvety timbre.

"Okay, okay, ya got me, Maddie!" Spreading in the thin air her alabaster long-sleeve-clad arms bleakly, wryly indicated her irony, whilst a gutturally healthy, bold chuckle clicked the roof of the Michiganian's mouth as Judy and Cassandra joined even though Cassandra's utter attention was shifted to the baby boy, cradling and swaying gingerly his frail skeleton. "I'm sure the girls in your school were sincerely jealous of yar gorgeous hair."

"What's the point of being jealous of somebody's hair that is constantly tied in buns and ponytails, honey?"

"At least, you have worn it down a couple of times!"

"Needless to mention it, but I ain't a mermaid like you, honey!" Suddenly, when the young woman finished with brushing her mentor's lion mane of sleek old Hollywood strands after swapping a minute pause to take a decent care of her photogenic mane, subsequently Madeleine tossed the brush back on the dressing table and maneuvered to yank her mentor's fishnet fingerless gloved hand to pepper her brittle knuckles with feather, tender kisses, mapping the extraordinary cotton fabric without smearing her peach pink lipstick. "Look at you, gorgeous!"

"Why thank you for the efforts ya have put to make me look like princess!" The rhetorical utterance jingled angelic hymns into the both younger ladies and infant's ears as the former pious woman of the cloth lifted up her rear from the dressing table's chair and turned to face the younger mother, whose twains of enamoured minerals were fixated on the bride. "I owe ya my life for everything good ya have done for me, Maddie!" Shortly before ambling up to the younger mother, the both blondes scooped each other in a tight, kindhearted hug and absorbing mutual warmness, whilst flashing each other amiably smiles, brilliantly glistening upon their stunning facial attributes.

"Aww, you're looking mesmerizing, darling!" The Vermontian wrenched widened in enticing shock her pools of dark, mist obsidian in awe, landing on the bride whilst the young boy's huge, round honey brown minerals were fantastically in awe, jerking in a wide O his content, childish grin, bleating series of blatant cooes, babbles and curt words. Their hearts raced due to the majestically authentic appearance of the former holy woman's transformation into a mesmerizing bride as her wedding gown was lily white with satin fishnet long sleeves, guarding her leanly marbled arms with an elegantly enveloped heart-shaped belt, securing her middle and embellishing impressively the gown, paired with its magnificently ankle length satin hem flaring across her classy oyster-white stilettos, shoing her petite feet along with oyster-white stockings and garters, mounting her hips. Additionally, pearl ribboned stud earrings pronged her creamy, milky earlobes with the amorous proposal ring. Last but not least, the alluring fragrance of lilacs perfume permeated in the bedroom after besprinkling the middle-aged blonde's wrists, neck and chest. She looked indisputably gorgeous into the both younger women's eyes even her son."Don't you agree, sweetie?" Pressing a soft, affectionate peck on the top of the infant's head and writhing incessantly his pudgy arms, in order to sense the genuine notion of a maternal's warmness, unconditional love and sheer innocence, residing in a single person's embrace.

"Mama!"

"Thank you girls and sweetie for everything!"

"Needless to thank us, Judy! I'm completely sure you would bring a heart attack to Timothy." In the interim, the punchline of the joke slipped from the Michiganian's mouth, envenoming the syllables and vowels after lurching on her tongue serpentinely.

"I've already almost brought him a heart attack a few times, Maddie!" As soon as the juvenile mother handed the love child of the former holy woman, consequently the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer gladly accepted the offer and continuously rocked and swayed gingerly, steadily her baby son, his idle big, round hazelish-brown gemstones eyed the trio, lingering his childishly content grin for realizing what kind of day was today and most of all, how much fun the wedding ceremony's guests are going to have even that his parents are going to be eventually tie the knot and open a fresh new chapter in their lives after knowing one another for a long time and due to their abstinence and toxicity dominating their relationship, they didn't give up at all as they resumed delightfully, headstrongly the clash with working hard on their toxic relationship and embracing with open arms their imperfections.

"I don't want even to imagine that, Maddie and Judy!"

"Oops! It's already eight o'clock!" After peering behind the Bostonian to scan the recent time, haphazardly her protégé mewled the caution urgently. "We better go to the freak show church and inform the others to get their own bums in the cars."

"You're right! Let's go!"

Author's Note: I'm sincerely sorry for this sloppy chapter even delaying with the updates. Moreover, I'm strongly promising the next chapter will be more promisingly interesting and hilarious.

How do you think the wedding is going to pass between the guests and the recently married couple? Do you think Madeleine and Cassandra are good friends and their friendship is worth, in spite of their mild contrasts they share together? Are you more team Cassandra or Madeleine?

I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter! If you genuinely enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to leave a feedback! It's always appreciated! :))


	26. Blustery Wedding

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

_"Andrea, I've something to confess to you!" _

_"What would be your confession, darling?"_

_"O-Oh God! N-No! It's impossible! Kenneth, wake up,"_

_"That's sucks anyway! I just don't want neither of ya having the same experience as mine! It's like watching either ya or our lovely cherub angel going through the same shit and following my steps into the darkness, where the escape is minimally guaranteed to save either of you. Needless to mention, what is being a prisoner of an undeserved destiny which isn't yar fault at all."_

_"I love how caring you're actually for me and our lovely cherub angel, but do you know what it was worse in my family's case if you ask me?"_

_"What kind of outfits are you exactly looking for, Cass?"_

_"Something simply and fashionable."_

_"What's the point of being jealous of somebody's hair that is constantly tied in buns and ponytails, honey?"_

_"At least, you have worn it down a couple of times!"_

\- _Flashback_ -

\- _13__th__ of June, 1957_ -

_A mere day. Just like every elapsing day, either carelessly or prominently pockmarked on the annual calendar. For certain scale of the general population today or another day would be truly meaningful, prominent in certain notion. The medley of mindsets would perceive today's day as ascension, nemesis, christening, resuscitation or anything else they'd genuinely, crudely address it with its true sobriquet._

_With the elapsing days and weeks, the phenomenal anomaly of the seasons' cusp and bestowing the atmosphere with the wee alludes of the summer were approaching sooner than later. Furthermore, the freshly balmy climate in Vermont was vibrantly beaming at the surroundings and swaddling them warmly under Mother nature's late spring warm quilt and the nocturnal daily episodes bristling and waltizing a delightfully lukewarm early summer breeze, caressing and fondling featherly soft the surroundings and emboldening their very existence._

_It's been a handful of days since the holy priest has metaphorically said goodbye to his birth land due to his passionate pursuation of his dreams in his second land, where he hasn't even being raised or at least adopting welcomingly to the foreign atmosphere. Anyway the homesickening timbre of his farewell with northern London and the commonly hideous rainy, muddy days were a plus for him to adopt or at least encounter the American's medley of atmospheres and climates especially with his choice of northern state Vermont. Miraculously the days weren't ambiguously rainy, nor headstrongly cloudy in the British compatriot's case._

_Although his pure loneliness and spending a few nights in a motel with his arrival in the northern state, in order to save pearly bonus time for finding the exact property where he could store his own paraphernalia and at least having his own privately owned property somewhere in Vermont's countryside where there were rarely tremendously wealthy owners of their homes with meager neighbourhood and majorly encompassed by the phenomenally aesthetics of the nature throughout the advancing seasonal time. There were meager scale of days for the devotional members of the church who would get back at their homes instead of joining the mass or refilling their hectic daily schedules with visiting remarkable sites and their presence was compulsory at any cost._

_Although vague, bleak nostalgia grained his facial attributes and clouding his hurricane of thoughts, Timothy was eagerly looking forward of his new home land and optimistically anticipating for the changes in his life which may be efficiently imposed whether within a couple of weeks or otherwise years whenever the worthful patience plays its own cards right._

_After retrieving his own luggage and keeping in touch with the property agency via an occasional newspaper offer which urgently drew his attention in no time for purchasing a two-story mansion with Victorian style exquisitely polished iron gates and grandiose extensive yard with rich choice of flowerbeds adorning which it's being built and persistently adorned for a few years and it has never been owned by any single soul, his impending destination was to his coveted property to own for the rest of his days._

_Fortunately, a morning mass wasn't refilling Timothy's daily schedule as his productivity was fiercely erupting to render and craft wonders, mastering them in not only contacting the real estate's manager and being taken on a tour inside his new property shortly before granting him the necessary amount of money for the two-story mansion, but also find his own church, regardless how many months even years he's going to devot to the same church until his decisions urge him to emigrate somewhere else and altering his location._

_The arranged appointment with the real estate manager was promisingly marked for eight and a half o'clock in the morning._

_As soon as the holy man was driven to his dream destination after manifesting to the taxi driver, subsequently his dream destination to his home hunting site was fulfilled within a half an hour, factly, he woke up with an hour earlier before fleeing the motel to have healthy and refreshing breakfast along with taking a quick, steamy shower to boldly refresh him and prepare his luggage which was sufficiently heavy, arduous for carrying it in the same time altogether._

_"Here you are, Mr. Howard!" The property agent's amiable, eloquent timbre of her Vermont lilt strongly accentuated her utterance, a peppermintly affable, vaguely prim smile perkily transfused across her conservatively mauve painted lips whilst turning to face Timothy who just paid the taxi driver for his dream destination's journey and subsequently fleeing the vehicle to fulfill partly his daily schedule for today._

_The property agent was approximately in her late forties with amusingly healthily chubby stocky body structure for her age and height 5'3 only, constructing her feminine anatomy. A shoulder length halo ringlet of perfectly glossy, happy midnight black strands framed her oval, full profile with light-heavy make-up, weighted on her smokey silver eyeshadows powdering her brittle eyelids and medium red lipstick, painting exquisitely her naturally heart-shaped, chapped lips and bulging their contour to glint bigger into the general population's eyes until the lipstick isn't smeared off eventually. Her professionally smart, neat suit was femininely spruce blue chiffon with ruched sleeves blazer, paired with a white sleeveless top with sweetheart neckline, partly exposing the lusciously silken unnaturally pale tone of her skin tone and her moonstone necklace, embroidering her neck with its tiny pendant tickling her delicate expanse. Her pools of abysmally abstract forest green pebbled her face along with her delicate button nose and naturally medium-sized, grotesquely expressive eyebrows. Moreover, her outfit was paired with midnight black pair of slacks, obscuring the vista of her surprisingly stocky, swan-curved legs and her petite feet shoed in classy charcoal black shiny stilettos. Last but not least, her name was Valeria Darkwood._

_"Good morning, Mrs. Darkwood!" When they maintained an adequate proximity, measured approximately a handful of inches distancing their both figures thinly, thus the younger man managed to yank gentlemanly the offered hand for a formally polite handshake, stilling his pools of profoundly meaningful chocolate brown on her uncommonly attractive even though indifferent heavy wrinkles indicating her authentic charm. The bright mid-June, scintillating sun vibrantly happy illuminated with golden saturation their porcelain fleshes and medley of chestnut and midnight black strands, generously stroked by the dispersed sun rays."Right on time!"_

_"Correct, Mr. Howard! You're fashionably on time." Shortly after interrupting the handshake, subsequently Valeria retrieved the master key for the padlock and unlocking it in a swift motion until clicking snapped opened at last. Within a single motion of spreading the Victorian style exquisitely lacquered gate wing, the middle-aged lady stepped aside, offering sufficiently enormous, convenient space to the customer to step inside the unpurchased yet two-story house with its opulent choice of flowerbeds, adorning the expansive yard and longing for a promising owner to own every outskirt and angle of the unowned house. "Let's get back to the tour to take you around this property you wished to see if it's parallel to your preference!" When the duo's presences established in the very beginning of the mansion's territory, throughout the devotional clergyman escorted meekly the older lady with his comforting, knowledgable presence, ghosting her back._

_In the meanwhile, the pairing retired to every outskirt of the yard as Valeria was taking on a promisingly welcoming, fiercely enthusiastic tour her recent client to plummet down his doubts and attempt persuade him subtly to purchase the property if he liked it._

-_ End of Flashback _-

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

Within a half an hour later or so when the both vehicles were pulled to the nearby church where the rest of the private wedding guests were invitingly, prominently invited, the time was elapsing clumsily sluggish at snail's pace.

The early spring's featherly soft, beaming zephyr permeated widely and stormily slapping with its vehemently gentle caresses the unruly stray strands of Frank's flossily hoary and Anna's youthfully silky's hairs, choiring strong-willedly with the revered woman of the cloth's smartly, neatly tied in high bun sparse mop of hoary locks, framing her round, full profile with naturally heavy wrinkles embellishing remarkably her lower eyelids, nose and jaw.

An additional glimpse to the trio's formal outfits was prominently indicated in Mother Claudia's conservatively cheerful cotton floral lily-white dress with its hem flaring across her swan curved calves, pairing with a neat jet-black chiffon blazer and conveniently cozy jet-black Mary Jane, shoing her promisingly secured feet. A classy, simple silver bracelet fastened her brittle wrist, matching ideally with the wedlock ceremony's outfit even though the senior woman of the cloth seldom was dolled up fashionably for her age and it was awe-inspiring beholding the abstractly radiant, wonderful side of Mother Claudia's light side.

Unlike the conservatively dolled up Claudia, Timothy's younger sibling, Anna's recent toges hugging her dumbfoundingly insatiable, eye-catching swan lean curves structuring her body's anatomy were a navy blue pencil skirt with embroidered rose on the top of the toge, twinning with a sheerly oyster-white, unblemished chiffon shirt with decorative rose petals ornating the flimsy fabric and a neutrally breathtaking beige cardigan hypodermically decorating her torso. Furthermore, the psychologist's classy white pumps were additionally adding an extra handful of inches to her real estimated height as combination of sapphire jewels like necklace and ring were embellishing her petite-frame. Notwithstanding her commonly encountered elegant costumes, today her long mop of perkily silky chestnut tresses framed her round, full profile was worn down to enchance artistically her magnificently undeniable beauty, inherited genetically and through her sufficient efforts of self-care.

The sole gentleman, accompanying the feminine duo was donned up in an ocean blue suit with an intelligently worn ocean blue tie, gracefully matching with his blazer, purely lily-white shirt and pair of trousers, besides his black Oxford.

"Hot damn, it's already eight and a half o'clock in the morning!" After snapping his big, round lapis lazuli jewels on his wrist watch to check the recent time's indication as a pensive purse zipped the revered woman of the cloth's conservatively mauve painted lips, expressively manipulating a perky quirk of an eyebrow perplexedly due to the former police officer's complaint and searing cuss, scorching eagerly his tongue. "Where those lovey-doveys are with the others?"

"Shh, shh, shh, Frank, watch your mouth!" All of a sudden, the younger lady draped a satinly protective, comforting arm around the former police officer's upper back, ushering him to absorb in a friendly spaced embrace, soothingly granting him myriad of consolation over the others' absence and sternity puncturing her caution, whereas the surprising nonchalance of Mother Claudia dumbfounded the younger duo's immunity to losing her nerves and ruining her high-spirited humor just before encountering the rest of the freshly invited wedding guests in the company of the couple. "There's a nun over there." Although it's been less than an hour since Anna met for very first time the exalted sister of the church and the security guard, she quickly became quite fond of them due to the fact they're kindheartedly close to the couple.

"M-Mother Claudia," Hitching his breathing, the middle-aged man shot a certainly quick, studious glance at the senior lady, lowly humming under his breath melodiously, silver-tonguedly to make sure the Mother Superior wasn't catching a glimpse of their conversation or most of all, the outstanding segment, illustrated with the expletives, painting and building the bricks of their utterances. "Ah, she isn't problematic at all since I know her for a certain amount of time but not as much as Judy does or yar brother Tim."

"Yeah! My brother but you've to admit he wasn't the best priest and it wasn't the best decision he's ever made in his own life."

"Correct, Anna! Just biting the dust in the diocese wasn't under any circumstances." In the interval, the widower fixed his blazer's lapels gentlemanly, the deftiness of his fingers working on the pleasant graze of the fabric beneath his digits. "I wonder what kind of a sane person would join the church just like that though he told me once why he became a freaking priest."

"Well, that was also the time when God called him," The psychologist's heavy sigh flushed her tiny, flexible nostrils and the refreshing oxygen exceedingly delightful coursed at her lungs, bobbing meekly her head in solemn agreement, reaffirming the widower's utterance whilst fixating her pools of intensely rich azure on his handsome face. "Urgently!" A lisp rolled out of her tongue after begrudgingly spontaneously grinding inside her oral caverns.

"So that's pretty interesting!" Suddenly, the younger pairing turned to face Claudia, clamping between their front ivory teeth the raw spot of their lower plumpish lip to nip delicately, refinedly. The senior member of the church managed to double the smacked slaps across her floral dress's hem, in order to dust off any absent-mindedly pelted dust for dumping it motionless a few minutes at least. "Mother Superior!" When Frank's azure blue minerals speared pierceingly, intensifying its sharpness of his stare landed on the older woman's heavy wrinkled facial attributes, open-mouthed his emphasis ventilated his oral caverns momentarily. The emphasis presentably shouted Claudia's attention at the pace of flipping book's page after being perpetually read in the corner of the starkly inquisitive, childlike hungry for knowledge eye. "I'm not pressuring ya to tell us what urged ya to join the church or at least deprive yourself from the free life." Stilling the elegantly coy smile painting brightly the corners of his mouth, twisted in the giant, joyous slit bleeding bewitching charm and merriness, the brightness of its giant slit illuminated extraordinarily the curtain of bleak shadows, blanketing coldly, unwelcomingly his facial attributes. Further, the security guard's sheer inquisitiveness to discover Claudia's real motives for joining the church and the symptoms of forsakening the free life and its potential lifestyle of the unholiness, deemed by the servants of God, was fiercely arousing internet also in the psychologist's case. "But what made ya to give up the free life?"

"Well, I was pretty younger when everything started, my child!" As soon as the older lady caught glimpse of the younger pairing's attentions in no time, subsequently a reassuringly soft, coy smile gingerly adapted to the corners of her conservatively mauve painted lips, curving when every syllable and vowel manifested per a word. The mild late spring zephyr gingerly, delicately danced and permeated its contagious radiance everywhere. "It was in the beginning of my forties when I lost my mother as she died in her own sleep. She was regularly smoking and spending the last yearsof her life after retirement in smoking, gardening, cooking and baking. She was at home all day and she was living in my home after a group of vulgar adolescents wanted to prank her with setting on fire her old house." The persistent clashes of syllables and vowels formulated the appropriate words which utterly formed utterances and the distress, incredulously sketched Mother Claudia's parchment complexion, whereas maintaining an appropriate eye contact with the both younger adults, opting to not show wee hints of disquietness on one of the brightest days ever in her life in front of any single soul. Her former protégé's wedding with the former aspiring Monsignor and opening freshly a new chapter in their lives after headstrongly clashing with the toxicity of their almost irreparable relationship unless the great deal of efforts were outworn and their hard work to repair everything that was imperfect or on the contrary way too perfect to be realistic. Moreover, even though it's been a long time since the beldam is persistently pervesering her mother's death Dorothy, she didn't have any intentions of lowering the spirits of every single wedlock's guest with her personal stories which were far cry from beatific in certain cases. It could cost her a pair of beamingly authentic smiles to twist into grotesquely frustrated frowns, flattening their lips.

"My goodness!" Suddenly the British compatriot and the former police officer pawed featherly soft, immediately their chests, stining widened their minerals in unavoidable panic, whilst being all ears eagerly for the Mother Superior's commencement of her hallowed saga and its prominent prologue, introducing her very self as her own protagonist with different masks in every segment of her one of a kind life and dynamic roller coaster. "We're very sorry for your mother loss, Mother Superior!" In spite of it's been a half an hour since the first encounter with the exalted nun and the former police officer, strangely, the British compatriot was sticking yet politely addressing formally the beldame with her ecclesiastical title.

"You don't have to be quite formal, my child! Just call me Claudia since you're the former Monsignor's sister." Then the brunette maneuvered her head in dignified nod, reaffirming Claudia's caution momentarily and agreeing to address her informally, despite their unspeakably big age gap. Stilling the manipulation of her flexed jaw to steady the radiant slit, bashfully spread across her lips, Anna jointed her lungs with a featherly soft, dainty sigh, followed by a gutturally healthy chuckle. "Don't be so shy, Anna! I'm not your high school professor or your manager." Even though Anna was switching the roles of formality and informality with her clients who were struggling essentially mentally, anyway due to her undeniably austere discipline with addressing officially the older generation and strangers the brunette was genuinely finding unavoidably embarrassing preaching a member of the church or anybody who was playing much higher role even proudly golden raising in the higher tiers of the general population. Pinkness gamely, greedily tickled her facial skin, tinging it and blush unbelievably heating and irregulating the body temperature."I've known your brother, Frank and you sister-in-law for a long time enough just to be fine with calling me Claudia, not as if I'm a nun to you."

"B-But I feel fashionably uncomfortable when Claudia is lying on my tongue to call you as if I'm a very close or acquaintance of yours."

"Just you've to step outside your comfort zone, my child!" At the moment, when the senior woman of the cloth boldly approached the duo and managing to moderate the proximity she shared with Frank and Anna in a handful of inches solely, subsequently the humdrum car engines' ballad of buzzs drew the trio's attentions immediately and spearing with their piercing gazes the cabs of the rest of the wedlock's horde pitching the eloquent morning birdsongs in the background with its great blend of medley of early morning's silver-tongued, wondrous birdsongs, the faintly playful spring breeze, the inward breathing of the trio and the car engines' buzzing soundtrack. Meanwhile, Claudia ushered her petite, marbled hand to paw faintly, softly the brunette's dainty, feminely shoulder soothingly, whereas still transfixing their stares, darkened with childish curiosity curtaining their indiscernible midnight black pupils which widened haphazardly due to the ecstaticly pleasurable vista of the wedlock guests' horde arrival even if they're slightly delaying with almost a few minutes only. "Here are them!"

"It screams they're ready." As soon as the soundtrack of arduous car engines' droning ceased in the background with the freshly parked cabs on the free parking lots, consequently Andrea in the company of her daughter, grandchildren and David hopped out of the firstly immobile vehicle and anticipating patiently for Jude, Timothy, Roman and Madeleine. "It's a pleasure seeing Andrea dressed like Queen Bee on my ex-boss's wedding." Nudging mischievously childish, perkily the younger woman's elbow, the hoarseness in the widower's boyish, enigmatic giggle didn't fade away and the extra presences of the horde of adults and a handful of youngsters escorting them as comforting presences to escalate the high spirits.

"Look at my handsome brother, Frank! You've to be green with envy." Even when the quickness of the psychologist's adaption towards the former policeman's ambience and his goofy punchline of the jokes, a perkily sunny grin nicked the corners of her mouth, bleeding of sheerly, pretty natural euphoria of beholding her brother years later, despite the phone calls they've shared a few times with the great deal of opportunity to listen to their voices' symphony wasn't promisingly compensating the years of real absence at all. The absence of presences, consolingly warm escort the siblings, nevertheless, the spectrals or at least the depicted vistas of their presences comfortingly accompanying them like spectrals was homesickening not only the psychologist, but also the former holy priest.

"Nah! I'm not some kind of a pansy but he's pretty good-looking for his damn age and my deceased brother from the war was flawlessly attractive." Once the security guard's voice decibels daintily plummeted down and peaked to a stealthy mumble, caressing gentlemanly the younger lady's ear with his cinnamon and coffee's stained breath, meantime, Madeleine scooping Edward Ralph in her step-maternally secure, alabaster arms, warmly and firmly swaddling him whilst rocking him in the company of the almost married couple as the former priest opened the doors for the both ladies and steading his colossal, protective hand clawing his lover's partly gloved smaller, milky. "Look at them! They're just heavenly perfection."

When they fled the former pious members of the church's two-story mansion to accurately arriving in the local nearby church without an ado, in the last minute before fleeing the almost married pairing hired a maid to clean and dust even the most profound outskirts of the mansion, besides taking a propitious care of the three-month-old kitten until they get back at home lastly and pay the requited quantity of money to the maid for her toilsome hardwork to get rid off the apocalyptic dust and mess's remnants, submerging every room's floor and furnitures doubtlessly, almost succumbing in despondent grubbiness that adorned and painted the domestic atmosphere inside the two-story house.

Furthermore, the former prostitute's official outfit for the wedding comprised an elegant honey yellow cotton blazer, gracefully coupled with a classy pencil honey yellow with its hem flaring slightly above her round, lovely shaped knees, white chiffon sleeveless shirt, fully buttoned and obscuring in mantle form even wee hints of her lusciously eye-catching cleavage's territory with its unblemishedly glossy fair skin tone extravagantly highlighting her formal outfit. What it was additionally added to Andrea's breathtaking physique was classy pitch-black pumps gracefully shoing her petite, flimsy feet along with starkly black, extravagantly thin stockings with honey yellow garnets ornating them as its fabric guarded her leanly long, amorous legs up to her hips from the mild, bearably chilliness of the early spring. Last but not least, collection of topaz droplet earrings pronged her dainty, frail earlobes along with a silver bracelet, ornated with sea of topaz gems to the design beautifully.

"Hey, little playful chaffeurs!" The stark sarcasm in David's utterance, dripping from his chapped, glossy lips which were broadly permated into a delightful, amorous smile slapped metaphorically mischievous Jack and Kathy's petite, sensitive ears, whereas they're mildly oblivious to their father's utterance as they dashed stubbornly to the foreign strangers for them, spreading widely their childishly pudgy, satin arms into the thin air and gamely flapping them like freely flying birds' wings, mastering their flying skills in the sky. "Better be careful to not bump into something!"

"Look at those little birds in chauffeur suits!" Mirthfully chirping the exclaimation wasn't clearly regrettable for the single father at all whilst the horde of adults with the youngsters were marching towards Frank, Anna and Mother Claudia and the naked medley of elegance, casuality and agitation weren't objecting their excitement even in their gaits. "Be careful, little birds! Holy! What strong kiddos when they're both together!"

"Paulo avises, Frank!" The haphazardness of the revered nun's correction in Latin with begrudging lisp in her northern lilt rolled out of the tongue, whereas the young schoolers scooped into tight and dotingly warm hug Andrea's grandchildren. Even though the weightless pudgy arms of the infants were snaked around Frank's frail skeleton, swarm of blissful, confident giggles sailed out of the other wedding participants' mouths, whereas the six-month-old baby's huge, round caramel brown gemstones landed on the older children, inserting a chubby, weely swan thumb into his sticky mouth, sponging with its wet oral caverns and his healthily strawberry-coloured tongue its dry flesh, wrenching widened in awe how older and bigger Jack and Kathy appeared to be even though he still enjoyed to be warmly, faithfully be swaddled into the adults' silken arms and pearly treasuring the future one of a kind individual's weightless body being secured at any cost.

"D-Does that mean,"

"Little birds in Latin." In the meantime, the Mother Superior curtly cut off the psychologist, shifting her attention immediately to her with a demurely intelligent, agreeably adapting smile tugging at the corners of her conservatively painted mauve lips, faintly dilligent bobbing her head.

"Hi everybody!' The suddenness of mirth puncturing the Michiganian's buoyant timbre dancing smoothly, honeyedly her presentable greeting to the trio, rocking and swaying gingerly her friend's baby boy, whereas a girlishly merry grin embellished her porcelain, freshly youthful complexion, glimmering brightly under the radiant sun's saturation and gorgeously painting with its golden saturating mantle and obscuring the natural pictures of the shadows. "We've to excuse us if we're slightly late but we hired a housekeeper to clean after Judy and Timothy's stuff during their absence. Let's not mention about the cat."

"It's true! But kids, be careful to not being responsible for anybody's deformed bone." Cassandra's tongue crafted a great blend of nonchalance and mild sternness in her caution to her biological creations, a strong, muscly arm snaked around her middle as her husband's emanation.

"We won't, Mommy! We promise."

"Anna, my goodness!" When the horde was separating into small duos, at the moment, the former pious clergyman spread broadly his cheerful, strong arms into the air while maintaining a scarce distance with his younger sibling and his pools of abysmally stunning chocolate brown fixated on her in awe, admiring her ethereal beauty platonically, politely. The British pairing's hearts raced and leaped heavenly after solely hearing their own voices' echoes through earpieces for years or at least a couple of times after Timothy's emigration to another country. The extravagantly small scale of space the siblings shared was platonically intimate and linking their both frail skeletons in a kindheartedly heartwarming, doting embrace which they haven't swapped for years. How long it has been when Anna and Timothy have even beheld one another in such light? How long it has been when Anna and Timothy drowned themselves into their platonical tenderness as a brother and a sister and sharing certain personality traits in common that certainly intesifyed their potent bond? Even the years of absence somehow vaguely affected their physique's changes such as facial expressions and the inexorably common wrinkles, heavily adorning their facial features like Christmas ornaments on its extraordinarily monumental Christmas tree with its prominently sparkling star on the top of the tree. It's perfectly normal for a visible change even if it's the mildest amidst the both siblings even if it's vaguely visible in the corner of their eye. "Why didn't you tell me you're coming to see me and everybody else from my inner circle?" During the kindheartedly timeless embrace which the English mating were tenderly, sweetly molting into effortlessly, the former pious sister of the church's uneasiness to be introduced to her lover's younger sister was inevitably obvious, fidgeting her quivering partly gloved hands whilst bobbing her head to greet politely the other wedlock guests with a sheepishly impressive, bewitching grin, curving her lips into a soft O fastening her oyster-white enamels altogether and synchronizing a beaming grin.

Although the middle-aged blonde's concerns what she may struck initially or at least what kind of a first impression she'd manifest in front of anybody from Timothy's family, her optimistically heartwarming inner voices' attempts to mute her fatalistically hideous concerns were ongoing nonetheless.

"Well, Tim, I cannot leak even the little secrets of mine unless they're manifested into a surprise." In the meantime, the psychologist's chin gently perched on top of her older brother's broad, comfortably muscly shoulder and her face buried into the crook of his arm, blinking in megawatt dull choir her partly curtained eyelids, manipulating its linger of smugly megawatt smirk, slitting across her magnificently cherub lips. Notwithstanding the circumstances, the psychologist wasn't very fond of leaking even the pettiest secret she's solemnly vowed to camouflage it enigmatically unless the special moment's arrival, in order to register its surprise and its camouflaging mask disarm its mysteriousness nonetheless.

"I know, you little secret keeper! No wonder I remember when dad was mad over John for the car damages, therefore we had a revenge on him with the magenta paint from the basement and we lied to dad one of the neighbours did it."

"Oh yeah! Exactly! Dad was far cry at peace for days until he realized it was both of us and made you working extra hours on my homework instead of reading that bigoted Bible and," The suddenness of limping stutters sailed out of the brunette's mouth as the both siblings broke off the hug that endured for a timeless minute to take their time to admire one another's enchanting facial features and the swarm of silhouettes, mirroring vertically their bodies with double their real heights were a medley of humanoid, different deadly sins' demon representatives and a handful of hallowedly angelic, ghosting with their comfortingly friendly presences the group. "And he wasn't in condition to be the lovey-dovey dad we had like when we were younger like in the kindergarden!"

"Our father is a mess, Anna! Let's not talk about this distressing topic today and focus on the heavenly side of our day," As soon as Timothy and Anna shifted their attentions to the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer and locking up their intesfiyingly inviting gazes with hers, the former ambitious Monsignor's attempts to dodge any alludes of his father's raised topic wasn't a piece of cake for him at all, due to the fact, he didn't covet his wedding day especially his legimitately sacred day of bonding his rare bird and spending the rest of their day outdoors with the other wedlock guests in dances, eating, drinking, being photographed either with goofy or elegantly sparkling facial expressions embroidering their faces was pearly treasured to be amidst the best days of their lives. Notwithstanding the certain quantity of triggering topics, grinding on anybody's tongue tip to be sloppily glithering and register their lukewarm interest to share their own word altogether in tandem, the British aristocrat wanted today to evade any discords even frostily pessimistic and despondent discussions with anybody, regardless if it's Madeleine, Jude, his younger sibling or anybody else from their very unique inner circle's formulation. "And Anna and Judy, my rare bird," The velvety, serene timbre spotlighting outstandingly the British aristocrat's pauses, whereas the blonde greedily moistened after ushering her berry-coloured, wet tongue to twirl and sponge lightly, idly her upper and lower lip, in order to not smear her bright red lipstick. "That's my sister, Anna!" Snaking a securely muscly, potent arm around the former woman of the cloth's middle to draw her comfortably slightly closer to their space they shared altogether and yanking her clawed hand to press a peck on top of her fragile highlands of knuckles, whereas the blonde's tongue elaborated a gutturally healthy, wonderful eloquence in her husky chuckle and tossing her honey brown gems to the brunette. "And Anna, that's Judy!"

"It's a pleasure meeting ya, Anna! I'm Judy!"

"It's enormous pleasure to meet you on time, Jude! It's just Anna, Timothy's sister!" Within the officially presentable introduction of the both women and jointing their grapples with an amicable handshake and maintaining an adequate eye contact, their broad slits of glee wore thousand patterns of unspeakable merriness.

\- _A Half an Hour Later or So_ -

Within a half an hour's swiftness in its unnatural pace, the wedlock guests' seated on the exquisitely polished pews inside the local nearby Vermont church and awaiting Father Kellan Teagan's arrival inside the church's interiot after uneasily declaiming repeatedly the canticles for a marriage in his dorm room.

In the interim, the former members of the church were exquisitely posing on the altar and spearing with their beamingly vibrant gawks the matrimony's guests, divided into groups.

The wall clock's unnerved, bashful tick clicked with its pitch bonus to the background, joining the further background noises like chatters, resiliently silent breathings reckoned as inhales and exhales and the daylight silver-tonguedly elating birdsongs, summoning its composed soundtrack that numbed the lethally supernatural doldrum waltzing circa the church.

"Why it takes a bit longer to that priest to declare our marriage?" Even though the Bostonian's patience was ebbing out and its tissues blanching and losing its true elasticity and flossiness, baring balefully her ivory, still firm teeth whilst stifling tremendously frustrated grunts to declaim her disappointment and lacking patience to fulfil the ultimate marriage at last.

"Shh, shh, shh, Jude," Meanwhile, the younger man's abruptness in his draped arm around her middle pulled her cozily in a soothingly optimistic, ebullient embrace to secure her petite-frame and diminishing the chances of her freshly brewed and cooked inside anger to revamp her humor lightly startled the older woman, faintly dropping in duck her head for a split second as her breathing hitched and a shy heavy sigh fastened her lungs in no time. "Everything is going to be okay! Do not lose faith in your patience!" The stark wisdom, cusping with realism and optimism punctured the sharpness of Timothy's seriousness in his encouraging caution, managing to pepper her well-sculptured, chubby cheeks with creamy, satin kisses into which she molted to bones.

Despondent unnerveness in the incessantly ticking wall clock of the holy God's house indicated slowly but surely the elapsing time and the genuinely discouraging sentiment of Father Kellan's disappearance was incarnating the altruistically tremendous patience of the wedding guests and couple as if hours have elapsed, despite their surreptitiously plotted abstinence to not ruin their days into discords with the man of the cloth.

"I'm thinking that Father Kellan is angrily wanking himself in the dorm, fantasizing about another priests in swimming pool suits." All of a sudden, the middle-aged gentleman's punchline of the joke with unholy irony hitched his huskiness in his northern lilt, flicking up his huge, round ocean blue cabochons at his friends with quick, promising glimpses to attract their attentions urgently, in order to steady their childlike exulation, veiling their faces.

"No, no! How about the nuns too? And the holy water, Frank?" At the moment, the Michiganian was cozily seating alongside her older brother Roman and the single father, maneuvering a kind, amicable slap on his broad, muscly shoulder, stilling her mischievously villainous grin, decorating her freshly young-looking, dainty facial attributes. The entire church burst out into an uncontrollably vehement laughter, muting the eloquent birdsongs and the peaceful church's atmosphere.

"Don't worry about them! The holy water is actually the water in the swimming pool, while the nuns are the ones who pleasure them as they're sunbathing like frogs!" When Roman's interference emphatically aided the middle-aged gentleman to formulate the exact punchline of the joke until ocean of childish, buoyant laughters composed a ballad of euphoria.

"So if they sin, therefore the holy water swimming pool will be their punishment and burn them to bones if they swim into it as God grants them what they truly deserve?"

"Great logic, Andrea!" Meantime, Frank bleated a blatant gasp, shooting a deftly swift glance at the former prostitute, registering a gamely wink at her whilst clamping between his front, still firm teeth his lower plump, chapped lip to nibble deliciously.

As soon as the dark-haired clergyman fled his dorm room and awkwardly confronting the cluster of impulsively healthy, sanguine guffaws assaulting along with the scintillating early spring sun's celestially golden sun rays showering the hallowed building's interior and stunningly cloaking in pure saturation their outstanding, one of a kind individual facial attributes and exposed fleshes, rubicund blush generously, altruistically powdered his chubby, well-defined cheeks and sweltering heat plaguing his natural facial skin tone, leaking his naked embarrassment due to the unhallowed utterances which were swapping together certain wedlock guests. Additionally, what the Vermontian clergyman's symptom of his heart skipped beat was the punchline of the joke that was gravely, crudely crossing its borderlines. An eerie flat line flattened upon his naturally baby-pinkish, plump lips, hazing every hue of mirth and sorrow. Although his diligent, docile devotion to the church for a half a decade, it didn't compensate his sacred morals and vows were standing before anything. His virginally potent, meaty fingers motionlessly supported the Holy Bible's weight, hooked around its rigidly leather covers, grazing beneath his delicate digits and his masculinely pristine footsteps ghosting the altar until he approached directly the couple, standing beside them orthodoxly.

Miraculously the cluster of guffaws vanished in the thin air of the sacred façade's interior and every single soul's gaze escorted categorically Father Kellan Teagan's motioning figure until their twains of irises peaked to the trio. Certain wedlock guests' hands were stubbornly equipped with enticingly majestic bouquet of variety of alluring, delighting flowers like tulips, roses, marigolds, gardenias, lavenders and many others, bonusly polluting the stiff, commonly bland church's scent that was wafting across the vulnerably sensitive nostrils of every visitor.

Seconds before the commencement of hallowed anthem's chanting, clearing gruffily with a reluctant cough cleansing his throat was a good, wonderfully promising start for the youger gentleman, flipping through the sacred book's pages until his lapis lazuli gems pierced through the meaningfully essential sheets of paper with its glimmering jet-black ink past his vision, contrasting with the vague light yellow pigments of the blanks.

"For the beauty of the earth, For the beauty of the skies, For the love which from our birth! Over and around us lies, Christ our God, to thee we raise! This our sacrifice of praise." When the resilient doldrum suffocated the background, subsequently it was high time for Father Kellan's silver-tongued, clearness in his holy wedlock canticle's vocalization exceedingly, accenting its lyrics fluently without an ado and without any wee hints of stammers, puncturing his unpreparedness after spreading widely the Holy Bible's pages on one of the wedlock's holy anthems. "For the beauty of each hour! Of the day and of the night, Hill and vale, and tree and flower, Sun and moon, and stars of light: For the joy of ear and eye, For the heart and mind's delight," A pause snapped in the middle of the priest's canticle, whereas the British compatriot and his girlfriend exchanged even engulfed one another into their desirably lewd, pleasant ogles, bestowing them with unconditional reassuringness and serenity to chill their nerves even if their patience murderously petered off and smacking them with a furious adrenaline, pulsating into their figures and eagerly looking forward for the apogee of the angelic anthem, jingling calm caresses into their eardrums like the crickets' nocturnal ode, immersing the atmosphere warmly, conveniently.

"I've the strong feeling this priest chants this while wanking," During the series of whimpered blatant gasps and lisps of the holy chant, the widower's voice decibels transmuted his utterance into a murmur, transporting to his nearby listeners, scarcely oppressing its raspiness in his charming, hysterically quiet snicker.

"Frank, watch your mouth!" Even though the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman was a keen fan of her friend's goofy character, nevertheless, the haphazardness in her nubile graveness, spotlighting her austere caution unlike the rest of the wedding guests whose utter attention was shifted to the trio, posing onto the altar exquisitely graceful, brightly. The violently austere rap, nudging the middle-aged gentleman's elbow taunted his instincts to encounter the fierce, baleful glare of Madeleine, a forefinger grazing her peach pink, cherub lips meaningfully to lull him. "The priest is nearby."

"For the mystic harmony! Linking sense to sound and sight: For the joy of human love, Brother, sister, parent, child, Friends on earth, and friends above, For all gentle thoughts and mild," In the interval, the blonde's flexible, tiny nostrils weakly spurted invisible refreshing oxygen at the top of her flimsy lungs, eagerly looking forward for the holy man's apogee of its angelic song, dropping in bob her head whilst the British compatriot's meaty, protective fingers reached for her chin and gentlemanly, creamily grappling it, in order to tilt her head and throughout penetrate each other's ogles, whispering sweet nothings to her, the pad of his thumb kneading gingerly her dainty chin. "For each perfect gift of thine to our race so freely given, Graces human and divine, Flowers of earth and buds of heaven: For thy church that evermore lifteth holy hands above," Her spidery palish, partly gloved fingers cradled with its chaining his broad, muscular shoulders lovingly grasped his costume's fabric, inspecting studiously in a categorical scrutiny his fascinatingly youthful complexion, admiring his ethereally indisputable grace, thickly, marvelously dripping from his mannerism and physique.

"Everything is going to be fine, rare bird! The priest will stop chant quite soon, I assure you!"

"I know." Managing a meek, humble nod in strong agreement, her heart leaped, factly, crucially because of the romantic ambience's intension and the further surroundings' influence over their hallowed wedding, manipulating his both arms to snake ominously circa her slim, silken waist even though they opted to evade any kind of an eye contact or at least glimpse with the member of the church and glancing a couple of times quickly, reassuringly optimistic at their inner circle's horde. "But those holy songs are bringing me a pure earache."

"Offering up on every shore! This pure sacrifice of love," When the Holy Bible's snapped shut and the once widely, freely spread yellowish pages brassly taunted Father Kellan's ultimate focus, thus his focus was aimed to the pairing and grasping firmly the shut covers of the sacred book of God and the believers, flashing a soothingly marvelous, welcoming grin at Jude and Timothy. "Do you take Mr. Howard as your lawful husband, _to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?"_

_"Yes, I do!"_

_"Mr. Howard, will you take Ms. Martin here present, for your lawful wedded wife according to the rite of our Holy Mother, the Catholic church?"_

_"Yes, I'll!"_

_"You may now kiss the bride!" Once the officially declared marriage of the former devotional members of the church was a solemn fact, subsequently the church's audience, seating motionlessly on the lacquered pews composed a soundtrack of triumphiant applauds, ghosting the background and croaking breathily at the top of their lungs their formal wedlock, whilst the former licentious nightclub singer's lustfully Ravish Me Red lips pursued for her husband's naturally nude pink, plumpish lips' trap to settle conveniently into them with its hardeningly steamy kiss, suffocating the elasticity of the stretched horizontal line of their proximity and molting into their swelteringly steamy absorb warmness, flaming like ignited coals their scrumptious passion, desire, unconditional love and lust. Snapping shut their eyelids, while melting wholeheartedly into the kiss that was calculated as their very first after opening freshly, open-mindedly the new chapter of their book's lives as couple. The wedlock's very first kiss._

_"I love you very much to death, Timothy Howard!"_

_"I love you way more than anything, my rare bird, Judy Martin Howard!" Nuzzling their button noses in tenderly dynamic synchronizing tandem molted them into an affectionately feather Eskimo kiss they're camouflaged in unison._

_"Look, little cinnamon bee! Your Daddy and Mommy are already married as you've always whined." In the meantime, the juvenile blonde poised on her lap the little boy and stroking mellowly, jubilantly his pudgy, tiny hands, whereas her button, dainty nose stunningly nuzzled his forehead and thereafter snapping a peck on top of his head and whimpering series of jubilantly hysterical cooes and babbles, menancingly baring their teeth as if they were on cloud nine. "We won, honey!"_

_"Mama! Dada!"_

**Author's Note: Do not kill me for cutting slightly shorter the chapter, nevertheless, I'm planning sometimes to cut the chapters up to either 20-30 minutes or otherwise 40 minutes for reading maximun though in the impending chapters also the essential villains will earn their prestigious opportunity to polish their character development with richer, presentable nuances. **

**What are your thoughts on the wedding even though it was slightly sloppy written the scene? Moreover, what are your predictions on Jude and Timothy's impending honeymoon in Tennesse in the future chapters? Will they clash with any rival or a horrendous ordeal, parallel to the horrors they've been through in the past months and years? **


	27. Supplementary

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Here you are, Mr. Howard!" _

_"Good morning, Mrs. Darkwood! __Right on time!"__  
_

_"Well, I was pretty younger when everything started, my child! It was in the beginning of my forties when I lost my mother as she died in her own sleep. She was regularly smoking and spending the last yearsof her life after retirement in smoking, gardening, cooking and baking. She was at home all day and she was living in my home after a group of vulgar adolescents wanted to prank her with setting on fire her old house."_

_"My goodness! We're very sorry for your mother loss, Mother Superior!"_

_"Don't worry about them! The holy water is actually the water in the swimming pool, while the nuns are the ones who pleasure them as they're sunbathing like frogs!"_

_"So if they sin, therefore the holy water swimming pool will be their punishment and burn them to bones if they swim into it as God grants them what they truly deserve?"_

-_ Flashback_ -

\- _13th of December, 1949_ -

_The late forties indicated almost the apogee of it's a decade or rather the progress from the forties up to the fifties. A new decade. What it exactly meant? A new era. Different time. Different dreams. Different challenges. Different ordeals. A sheer catharsis. Just the differences between the cusp of the last year of the forties decade and almost the very first year of the fifties is arcanely tremendous even if it's a few years the real distance of the timelines._

_The time is altering just like the climate. Quite changeable, isn't that simply ironic, is it? Sometimes it was chaotically foggy and heavy rain violently, passionately showering with its wryly bittersweet, crystalline God's tears, hallowedly nurturing and fertilizing everything which hasn't even phased utterly. Sometimes the climate was pleasantly balmy and swaddling warmly, conveniently everything below, whilst eagerly sitting in the sky cozily. It was a meaningful reminder even if it's been a year or at least a few months elapsed solely, subsequently they could be even more adventurously dynamic with abundance of tribulations and processes rather than a handful of decades for example._

_Within the approaching Christian holidays and the most prominent Christmas in less than two weeks, the sheerly unblemished snow passionately flaked with its rich ocean of tiny, alabaster snowflakes until they gently, friendly tickled the ground and perpetually piled up their own wights. Vermont became a prosperiously lavish early winter vista of magnificence and esthetics, depicting every petty, discreet detail behind its depiction. The early winter's refreshing, severe wind vehemently, childishly waltez in the outskirts like a phenomenal performance of its exquisitely talented dancers._

_The nocturnal episode of the day fiercely darkened the sky and obscuring the daylight's reminiscent sunny light showering sweetly with its vibrant, jubilant smile, bleeding thickly, wonderfully its sheer charm and radiance._

_The daylight was just a vaguely enigmatic part of the memories._

_As Cayden has picked up his daughter from kindergarden and brought her older cousin Morgan Jill into his house to spend more time together, in fact, Morgan Jill's mother didn't mind at all, the ill-famed serial killer was using a ladder poising his large-frame to embellish the gigantic Christmas tree in the living room. A medium-sized, gauged in a couple of inches width and length carton box was an opulent collection of toys and ornates for the tree's decoration, interpreting its genuine Christmas and wintery vibes._

_In addition to the snow and glacially mischievous winds, the daredevil rain was slapping frequently the shut windows and staining relentlessly the crystally sweaty window glasses._

_Morgan Jill was actually a young girl with a couple of years Martha's senior with jet-black twin pigtails, curtaining elegantly her round, full profile with its flawlessly porcelain skin tone, highlighting her childlike, dainty facial features and her huge, expressively round silver-amber jewels, fiercely blazing sheer inquisitiveness and glee. Furthermore, the youngster was dolled up in casually goth wine purple and scarlet attires such as dresses, skirts and jumpsuits paired with but not least, the youngster's parents are actually Romanian emigrants along with her grandparents and the meager vocabulary in Romanian was common phenomenon, running into her family except for her younger cousin with the Italian._

_The fireplace's igniting woods reproduced a luster, cheerful waltz of flames, flickering gradually and warming the grand room, compensating agitatedly the hours of glacial coldness that reigned and swaddled the walls._

_"Stupida," The Mediitteritian lilt which the Italian compatriot's grandparents have taught him silver-tonguedly, persistently to obtain and spotlight his timbre was forcefully dancing on his tongue, shaking his head whilst a handful of medley of violet, golden and crimson decorative balls for the Christmas tree were timidly bracing his digits and precisely settling them on its branches. "Molta stupida!" What it tremendously disappointed him was that his son Andy was discreetly whirling into Morgan Jill's family and having no intentions of giving Andy to his biological father, due to the young boy's story about the days and weeks even the months he's under his creator's wing and supervision and his absence from home being frequent, in order to fish for his impending victims' gore and organs with surreptitiously manipulating them and subsequently ultimately playing his own cards right which was far cry from a decent childhood memory, phasing perpetually through the advancing time._

_"Look at you how fast you're, Martha!" When the female duo were occupying with their very presence the living room, accompanying the older gentleman, their fiendishly merry laughters and whines ghosted the atmosphere in general, jingling angelic anthems into his sensitive the moment, the Romanian compatriot's spidery palish fingers danced around the stuffed animal of her younger cousin, daredevily opting to not give up easily in the game whilst her naturally nude pink lips quivered in the scoff and the series of failed attempts from the brunette to get back her favorite stuffed giraffe were mellowly minimal unless her father's interference at least. "And your little friend won't be hugged by you." Glancing and subsequently transmuting her silver-amber embers on the plushie into a piercing gawk, enduring for a quarter a minute under the drainingly spearing smoky quartz gemstones of the kindergartener, the wee hints of woefully begrudging tears rimmed her brittle eyelids and dim light illumination of the room was pale enough to expose the rich glitter of tears._

_"Give Thomas to me, you little brat!" Protracting her childishly pudgy, silken arms to retrieve her favorite plush toy didn't help her at all when the nimbleness, stipulated into the elementary schooler's tries to object the game's end."C'mon, Morgan! I want Thomas."_

_"You won't have him." Maneuvering her strawberry-coloured tongue greedily mocking, Morgan bended, shoving behind her middle the stuffed animal and stilling her dancing fingers around the plush's featherly soft, soothing fabric, whereas naked adrenaline pumped into the brunette's veins and robust fury pulsating into her frail skeleton. A grotesquely unwelcoming, austere frown twisted across the young girl's face, incarnating her impotentness to halt her cousin from her sarcastic bicker. "Got it?"_

_"Dad, she doesn't want to give me my Thomas!" Stilling her protracted arms to draw the ill-famed psychopath's attention, perkily increasing the decibels of her bleated blatant whines, shifting her attention to him as Cayden scarcely glimpsed at the female duo, readjusting the Christmas tree's ornate with its chromatically beaming gerlands and toys, embellishing each outskirt of the decorative tree with sheer, cautious dexterousity. "I want my Thomas and her death." After Morgan managed to toss perkily careless the plushie giraffe, subsequently the weightless favorite item of the kindergartener faintly throbbed the monumentally decorative tree's top and unevenly, wimpishly wincing, fortunately, not losing utterly balance to flump onward. In the interval the ill-famed serial killer averted his studiously considerate gawk and his pools of profoundly expressive coffee brown, ablaze with utmost rage and unconditional contempt, darkening his freshly young-looking facial attributes with its fulgy, somber shadow, mantling fatly with its layer while spearing with an ablaze glare the female pairing, purring a blatant grunt under his breath. The stuffed animal relentlessly motionless ghosted the carpeted floor as Morgan and Martha felt incredibly small, vulnerable and indisputably weak under the older man's fierce glare._

_The truth eventually was that Thomas the plush animal which was Cayden's daughter favorite item was a precious gift for her as soon as her emergence from her mother's womb into the crudely cold, nevertheless, expansive world was paged up on the very first yellowish page of the book of her life. The youngster has always pearly treasured with every fragment of her flimsy heart her favorite item that memorably aided her to drift off asleep in the lonely, desperate nights as a young lady, being raised by a single father, to warmly console her and grant her myriad of unconditional warmness throughout the advancing annual seasons especially the iciest and the loneliest._

_It wasn't easy for Martha to cope with her father's singleness and opting to solve the family problems on his own in the name of his family and his daughter's platonically paternal love. Martha's biological mother was actually one of the one-night stand lovers that have crawled boldly, lustfully in Cayden's bedsheets and the young girl's mother name is Clementine Grace, who used to date her psychotic lover for two years until she passed away due to the ill-famed serial killer's tremendously fierce jealousy. His tremendously fierce jealousy was genuinely interpreted due to Clementine Grace's opulent friendships with other gentlemen that have treated her genuinely gentlemanly and polite without viewing her as a sexual object solely and being interested in her physique altogether._

_Clementine Grace was eventually the best thing that has ever happened to Martha and the most benevolent soul along with her uncle Sebastian whose unconditionally ferocious love was interpreted in pampering the juvenile brunette with stuffed animals, dolls and toys even lollipops and candies which every child circa her age would love to be graced with. Furthermore, the both adults have always been bountifully doting and caring about the kindergartener and they've always been there for her and aiding her to develop perpetually her vocabulary which was constructing throughout the advancing time unlike the Italian compatriot, whose absence was ghostwritten into his usual hook-ups with stranger women behind Clementine's back and making it out with them in the public bathrooms without being caught and then either brutally stabbing them to death or using other methods of murdering them with innocently getting away with homicide. Despite Sebastian's persistent persuations to protect the younger lady along with her niece from his brother's vicious claws, yet the younger lady was fearing of informing the authorities about her one-night stand lover's barbaric crimes which were almost daily announced via the newspapers, radio news or the breaking news on the television. She deeply knew along with the advices' owner their gooses would be cooked if the authorities are informed after leaking every petty illuminated detail behind the scenes of the Italian compatriot's crimes and absence which were mortifyingly worrying for the people that once sincerely supported him, they didn't want even to end slaughtered to bones either by his bare hands or any bloodthirstily fatalistic weapon even though their wonderfully ginormous wish to prevent his criminal deeds to immerse Vermont._

_Once the small family said farewell to Martha's biological mother, consequently Cayden's older brother who was childless and unmarried as always has deemed Martha as her own daughter and nurturing her with murderous love, warmness and comfort that couldn't be found even in the Italian compatriot, who was her actual biological creator. Moreover, it was difficult for them to persevere the sudden demise of Clementine and even when there were rare cases when the biological father of the kindergartener has seen her, instead earned daily reports about her creation's condition and in general which were ongoing, Sebastian did have any intentions of bringing Martha in her younger sibling's home to spend modicum of time with her biological creator nonetheless. Despite the lacking yearnness, he didn't want to embrace with open arms the aftermaths of a child that is spending more time with other family members rather than its real parents._

_Even more thanks to her kindhearted, radiant uncle, the little girl knew more things about her family even at such fragile age when the world was hazily circling around her and the things that aroused her enormous interest to examine their fragments were evolving gradually. The absence of her older brother Andy was profoundly saddening her, besides the loss of Clementine Grace which was inexorably disquieting leveled out her happiness that was once the very top accomplishment in her short life._

_"Who tossed that stuffed animal and almost didn't kick the bucket of the Christmas tree, ladies?" The huskiness in Cayden's intoxicated voice didn't vanish, whereas the medley of huskiness and intoxaction greatly blended a venomous enquiry that was begging for an immediate reply from the both girls, standing guiltlessly beside the ladder and the decorative tree with a couple of inches proximity, maintained appropriately._

_"It was her and she didn't even give me a chance to hug my Thomas, dad." After maneuvering a quirk of his dark, thick eyebrow quizzically, indicating his amusement of Morgan's misbehaving as the younger girl pointed ominously with a meaty forefinger at the taller frame, sheepish pinkness tickling her chubby, well-sculptured cheeks. "I want her dead." The sharpness of its kindergartener's decibels escalated to her covet, whereas her a soar lump bubbled up the older girl's throat, fearfully swigging it with struggle, sluggishly flexing her throat muscles as the Italian compatriot steadied his curled fingers around the ladder and ushering his feet to perch downward to each stair until efficiently whispering with his fuzzly slippers its footsteps, grazing the ground at last._

_"Everything is going to be fine, sweetie!" Shortly after the psychopath approached his daughter and niece and maintaining an appropriate proximity with them, gauged in a few inches solely, subsequently he hunkered down to press a creamily tender peck on his daughter's forehead and managing his both colossal, youthfully soft hands to stroke gingerly, tenderly their heads, soothingly, serenely consoling them to suffocate their worries and pangs of their conscience just because they're only children and they're meaningfully harmless compared to the grown-up individuals. There is always forgiveness for the children, despite their mistakes and rebellious children weren't mean to be blamed for even when sometimes their bickers were coming a bit too much for the others especially the adults. "Just follow me!" Thereafter straightening boldly his posture and ushering with a hand to be escorted by his niece and biological creation with their ghosting comforting presences in front of the tall figure of the infamous serial killer as they stepped inside the kitchen within less than a minute._

_As soon as the trio united in the dimly light kitchen, subsequently the young gentleman maneuvered an arch of his eyebrow, mindly ushering his niece to open the freezer's door whilst his hands were subtly shoved into his slacks' pockets, surreptitiously plotting his avenge on Morgan Jill to accomplish Martha's command._

_The doldrum comfortably slumbered in the kitchen as the trio hasn't peeled a single word shortly after their arrival cozily mumbling the room's corners, brightly contrasting to the extremely lethal ambience of the kitchen with its thickly dark, distressing pitch-black cloak, nonchalantly mantling the expanse._

_Even when Morgan Jill's oblivion to her uncle's villainously devilish intentions of imperiling his own status and delightfully mudding the daily breaking news about his impending victim of his vicious claws hitched her breathing with fastening her productively frail lungs to unload its oxygen, coursing through her tiny, vulnerable nostrils while glancing hesitantly at her younger cousin and uncle once again, swallowing hard approvingly._

_Morgan Jill deeply knew what she's exactly ordered to do for Cayden, in order to not arouse his adrenaline with her meager humbly mousy mannerism, dominating in her demeanor in front of him. Although the elementary schooler was with a couple of years Martha's seniors, however, she had a hard time believing her uncle was an inhumanely morbid sadist and serial killer of Halford, Vermont._

_"Don't be afraid! The freezer won't eat you, cupcake!"The eerily reassuring undertone of Cayden's emboldening caution, paired with friendly nickname efficiently chimed the Romanian compatriot to lift up her trembling, weathered hand to dangle around the freezer door's handle, consequently drawing its weight towards her until it fully leaked the freezer's deposited products which were nothing else than a freshly glazed with frost bottle of Monkey Shoulder whiskey. "Good! Now give me this ace frozen bottle of whiskey." A wickedly inviting, sly smirk cheerfully bloomed upon his thin, naturally baby-pinkish lips, fingering the pockets' featherly soft, enjoyable fabric and relishing its softness gliding smoothly through his touch._

_In the meantime, when Morgan Jill struggled to clumsily retrieve the glacial bottle of liquor for her uncle, the haphazardness of Cayden's deftness, attached to his abrupt push of its weightless petite-frame inside the freezer startled the dark-haired youngster shortly after the icebox's door slammed in no time and trapping her inside, subsequently fashioning into balled fists her brittle hands and dabbing on the pressurable dead weight that pinned its entrance, incapable of saving her own skin._

_"Help me! Somebody help me!" The intensifying undertones of breathy, glacial croaks, whimpered at the top of Morgan Jill's lungs taunted her younger cousin's reaction immediately to be manifested in objecting her demise._

_"Try harder!" Raising an arch of his eyebrow in choir, his thin, nude pink lips curved into the daredevil jeer, palming the icebox's door, whilst his daughter curled into balled fists her elvish, marbled hands to thud vigorously her biological creator's symmetrically long arms, despite her failed attempts to halt him from torturing Morgan Jill. "Is that what you got, Mattie? Quite disappointing, not gonna lie." Leaning down with a hiss, blatantly purring a complacent, wicked chuckle, clicking the roof of his wet, berry-coloured tongue whilst locking up his chocolate brown gemstones with his daughter's big, round pools of deep coffee brown, glittering her sheer compassion for her older cousin's undeserved torture. "You wanted her to die and to rot at death's door." The eerily mint-stained breath, fanning the kindergartener's alabaster façade invisibly, delicately as if it's breath bear a semblance of a light summer breeze, tickling gingerly her flesh. The scoffing tones jingled trouble into the brunette's petite, vulnerable ears and attempting to manipulate sufficiently powerful punches, thudding her father's nose, in order to dazzle him for awhile as he loses his balance and rescues Morgan Jill from the refrigerator's interior. Gritting vigorously her ivory teeth, she haphazardly delivered a punch to the young man whose fingertips cradled his bleeding nose and flumping backward against the counter's hardwood material, grazing his sliding back, resting against the furniture and meowing series of blatantly sore, painful whimpers which were mysteriously quiet at first until they escalated to louder, resembling the epitome of real agony. "Holy fuck, Mattie! My little princess is stronger than I thought." His worldview on the genuine strength of his younger daughter peculiarly flabbergasted him and nicked his initial skepticism which pronged his vortex of thoughts. He could't believe his three-year-old daughter who's regularly attending kindergarten and couldn't stand him after her mother's death and acknowledging the grimmest segments of Cayden's life and behind the scenes when nobody is witnessing the bloodthirstily hideous homicides of stranger women and shortly before their unspeakable demises committing adultery towards Clementine Grace._

_Even though the little girl wasn't old enough to understand the genuine notion of wishing somebody's demise and rather spotlighting sharply its accent, nevertheless, she really assimilated how precious was every human being's life, regardless her wishes in first place due to the tribulation of rescuing her own older cousin from the icebox._

_A lavish waterfall of sinfully dark blood trickled gently downward from Cayden's nostril, cradling and fingering gingerly the bloody beads, baptizing his fingertips with its pungent reek of damage, whereas Martha opened the icebox's grand door with her entire strength until the vista of her half-dead frozen cousin was utterly embraced by her coffee brown jewels, flaming sheer naivety, innocence and pangs of the conscience._

_"C'mon, Morgan! He is partly unconscious." Maneuvering with a wave of her only free, elvish hand to summon the elementary schooler's encourage to flee the freezer's interior and joining her out of the frosty realm as each fragile muscle of hers quivered incessantly in tandem after her feet perched on the kitchen's tiled floor and trading with the brunette a doting, tight hug, bracing each other's shoulders which granted her myriad of unconditional love, murderous warmness and timeless comfort as she buried her face in the crook of her neck conveniently. "Everything will be okay. I'm so sorry for letting you suffer."_

_"Don't apologize, Martha! I'm rather sorry for being so mean to you," All of a sudden, the nefarious serial killer straightened his posture from the tiled floor and dusted his knees and bum with series of cozy slaps, smacked across his muscles and blinking, in order to regain his clear vision and landing his scintillating cocoa brown gems on the both young girls, maintaining a platonic distance with them and startling them as they speared with their apprehensive twains of eyes on the tall figure, curving their lips in a soft O shortly after witnessing his roar which unloaded breathily his throat. "But," Bashful stutters lurched on the older lady's tongue, examining in a scrutiny in the corner of her eye her uncle's process of adjusting his posture, incapable of properly constructing its vowels and syllables, dancing in her throat and mindly._

_"Family is everything!" Meantime, the Italian compatriot manipulated his torso to bend down against the female duo and prong their apprehensive eyes with his scintillating, glassily stern stare whilst lowering abruptly the decibels of his wise caution with its brilliance of wisdom, sheening brightly into his words."Be careful what you wish for!" Seconds before readjusting his posture, his murmur sent blood-curdling shivers down the duo's spine of embarrassment and fear as its lukewarmness diminishing their natural body temperature. The platonic pairing's hearts skipped a couple of humdrum beats, unnaturally strong-willed hammering into their ribcages as if they're almost about to spring out of them._

\- _End of Flashback_ -

\- _An Hour and A Half Later or So_ -

As soon as Father Kellan Teagan declaimed the formal wedlock of the former pious members of the church, subsequently the wedlock matrimony started with the guests' arrival on the luxuriously embellished dining double tables with galore choice of food such as spring salads, luxuriously pooling with its light liquid champagne glasses, a grandiosely fabulous wedding cake with Jude and Timothy's figures on top of the vanilla and caramel's deluxe glaze, glinting its mouth-watering esthetics past each guest's wolfy irises. In addition to their entertaining atmosphere, music was playing in the background with its vinyl recorder which can be set by anyone from the invited wedding guests.

"_The purpose of a man is to love a woman,__ a__nd the purpose of a woman is to love a man! So come on baby let's start today, come on baby let's play__! __The game of love, love, la la la la la love__! __It started long ago in the Garden of Eden__ w__hen Adam said to Eve, baby, you're for me__,_" Game of Love by Wayne Fontana and The Mindbenders was recently playing on the vinyl recorder as its vocalist's eloquent, tuneful voice punctured his authentic talent in the song's lyrics, whilst the senior woman of the cloth was seating on the dining table with Frank, Andrea and David unlike Cassandra who was sharing a dance with Madeleine, Jude with Timothy, Jack with his sister Kathy and Anna trading her dancing skills with Roman. Even when the recently married couple was trading their dancing skills in front of the other dancing pairings and the passive individuals, meanwhile, Edward Ralph was comfortably, dotingly scooped into the former prostitute's securely loving, satin arms and stilling the frequence of her rocking process, in spite of his pure distraction from the buoyant music, stealing his slumber and refreshing rest immediately.

"I was wondering how many glasses of champagne would be worth for a good dance." The raspiness of the former police officer didn't fade away after gruffily clearing his throat with vomiting a perfectly healthy, rusty cough whilst one of his mammoth, stiff and veiny hands' meaty fingers danced around his glass of sunny liquor as it was already his second glass of champagne. A mischievously exigent smirk complacently blurred the patterns of despondency and pessimism, permeated across his champagne-stained mouth. "On the dance floor of the nuptial." The childlike cuorisity, cusping eagerly with optimism accented the sequel of the former police officer's utterance, daubing with the back of his only free hand the generous layer of perspiration, rotundly veiling his forehead whilst shooting a deftly fleet glance at the gyrating groups which were the top of the nuptial's heavenly depiction, painted with the most vibrant, glamorous pigments every discreet detail behind the vivacious absolute reality, encircling them.

"Frank, don't you ever dare thinking of dancing your tipsy ass in front of the kids! Jude and Tim won't be fine with seeing their old friend being such a turdsandwich." Suddenly the middle-aged lady's sternity punctured her graveness in her caution, quirking suspiciously her thin, elegant eyebrow while trashing him an eerie flat line for a split second to morbidly startle him, despite her attempts of intimidating him. Even though Andrea's first glass of champagne hasn't been even finished, the recent flowerstore saleswoman didn't want to violate even insanely deflate her own value into the others' eyes and perceive with a terrible image. "Even their little cherub angelic prince is disagreeing with seeing you tipsy." Diminishing the decibels of her monologue, whereas her attention was directly shifted to the infant and piercing his huge, roundish hazelish-brown cabochons her midnight black, her voice haphazardly softened and acquiring its honeyed undertones, hinting the vocal tissues as her long, pristinely slim palish fingers manipulated its tickle on his button nose mischievously.

"Ya!'

"See? He disagrees seeing an ex-cop making himself to look like a compulsive joke." At the moment, when the infant purred blatantly his quick vouch as his oral caverns sponged his thumb, gaping his naturally nude pink, plumpish lips, whereas the revered holy woman's flimsy fingers were hooked around the silverware fork and pronging adequately its imminent bite from her spring salad. "Frank! Hopefully it's a second and last glass of champagne." As soon as the widower lugged up his glass of sunny liquor to swig it instantly, emphatically, thereafter he dumped the emptied glass on the dining table aloof and pushing it docilely guiltless as if nothing wrong has happened.

"Honey, that's just champagne!" All of a sudden, the reassuringly convincing tones contacted her frail tissues after the widower patted kindly, lightly his old friend's shoulder blade and clawing delicately her dainty, feminine shoulder without averting his gaze from the middle-aged lady, stilling his coy smirk. "It's nothing like the bourbon, whiskey or vodka, but it's promisingly freshing ya up to consume yar own energy and motivation." A heavy sigh flushed Claudia's wee, flexible nostrils after continuously munching her fifth bite from the dish, darting her lapis lazuli minerals to the conversating horde. "It's only twelve and two percentage liquor with perky bubbles, dancing lively. That's what I'm telling ya by judging the alcohol percentage, Andrea. It's a simple math."

"As we talked about Mathematics, isn't there a specialist or just an ace one?" As soon as the middle-aged adults traded discreetly affable bickers, consequently David participated to plummet down the heat with posing question, begging for his recent audience's prompt reply.

"Math is finely lame, David! I was even a lame Mathematician, no matter if it's was elementary or high school." Shrugging coyly his broad, muscly shoulders, meantime, the idle, unnerving toying and fingering the frail glass material of his emptied glass, Frank blether a blatantly wry gasp at the top of his lungs, eyeing leerily the younger gentleman. "I was just being green around the gills when I was a high schooler. Completely lame!"

"But it makes you an excellent liquor expert by judging how much you calculated instantly the champagne alcohol's percentage."

"I'm agreeing with ya, David!"

"And what about you too, Andrea? Were you a good student in Math?" Flicking up his pools of abysmally expressive ocean blue to the former hooker, a vague, benevolent smile was sketched upon their parchment complexions, swapping their mutual radiance. The young gentleman managed to reach his colossal, creamily parchment hand to unearth warily, lovingly the infant, swaddled warmly, cozily into his aunt's arms and maneuvering a handful of fingers to pinch playfully his chubby, well-carved cheeks as a boyish, shy giggle slipped out of the infant's mouth.

"_So come on baby let's start today, come on baby let's play__! __The game of love, love, la la la la la love__! __Come on baby 'cause the time is right__! __Love your daddy with all your might__! __Put your arms around me, hold me tight__! __Play the game of love__,_"  
"I wasn't actually the big-shot in Math. I'm just like Frank." The series of pauses due to the six-month-old baby's childlike, excessive inquisitiveness to fondle clumsily the chiffon shirt's stubborn buttons and slightly unbuttoning them with his pudgy, meaty fingers to cradle her bosom, taunting her greedy, rich sniggers whilst shaking her head as her neatly combed halo ringlet of luxuriously golden curtains bounced fearfully, unevenly and tandeming the choir. "And yeah, I was almost on the verge to fail ninth grade, just because I was awfully doing in Math." Louring down her big, roundish pitch-black cabochons to encounter the sight of the six-month-old former members of the church's love child unceasingly clumsily undoing the very top headstrong buttons of her oyster-white chiffon shirt and partly exposing her flawlessly porcelain, daintly feminine, well-sculptured collarbones and bosom was vaguely embarrassing the horde of adults that were occupying the very dining table. The stark mild embarrassment with the unpredictable pause stunned the Norwegian compatriot, balefully gritting her teeth and clamping her lower plumpish lip with its megawatt intensity to be nibbled between her front, unblemishedly ivory teeth after lately brushing frequently her teeth and subsequently parttaking her daily schedule. "Oh God! Oh God No, Edward!" The oblivion of the curious baby boy of crossing the tolerable borderlines fogged his thoughts, despite his parents' absent-mindedness with masterizing and having fun along with the other dancing duos. Even if Jude and Timothy caught their own son's excessive inquisitiveness to trace and discover more the female anatomy especially the delicious cleavage, they would halt him at any cost to evade every wee hint of public mortification if it's in public and with any female acquaintance or friend of their. "T-That's a bit too much."

"Just a curious little boy! What do ya expect more from this little gentleman's curiosity that killed the cat?" Patting amicably, featherly soft Edward Ralph's head, Frank ushered to optimistically assure his old friend to not being concerned about the former members of the church son's potent, outstanding interest in testing the foreign, unknowledgable stuff around him with unceasingly discovering the mysterious outskirts of the world.

"I bet every little child is like that either with their parents or anybody else." Once the Mother Superior participated categorically into the younger adults' confab, her austerely hoarse tones prominently touched the once disheveled vowels and syllables, consequently insistingly constructing them as she traded twains of inquiring irises, speaking emotions to her. "Even Frank said it correctly how it's." The magnificence in its glamorously smiling chubby, celestially aureate sun climbing on the wee hours of the afternoon's baby blue horizon brightly, charmingly mantled with its thick saturating, spectacular mantle their faces and medley of dark and light strands, bouncing up and down in the song's rhythm and rich diversity of their body language mannerism even in the slightest motion. The purely naked, celestial illumination of its natural sunlight curtained every rapturous façade with its variety of warm nuances, painting exquisitely the wedlock's realistic, majestic illustration.

"Needless to say, Claudia! But this screams for parental control." Nicking her lips in a soft, reassuring grin, beaming at the older woman, Andrea manipulated her eyebrow to furrow graciously due to her uncomfortability to bear the toddler's enormous aroused interest in inspecting in a studious scrutiny the female anatomy which wasn't his biological creator, stifling the series of breathy, hysterical gasps the middle-aged lady's pitch-black orbs landed on Edward Ralph and gently pawed his smaller, flimsy hand to halt him in a stop from processing to strip off her the attire that guarded her torso as if it's chiffon was her real armor. "Sweetie, the answer is no!"

"Nana!"

"Look what, sweetie! I may be your aunt and your parents' friend, but I better advise you not doing this to me or Maddie."

"Nana!"

"I just said what it supposed to be."

"_The purpose of a man is to love a woman,__ a__nd the purpose of a woman is to love a man__! __So come on baby let's start today, come on baby let's play__! __The game of love, love, la la la la la love__! __The purpose of a man is to love a woman,__ a__nd the purpose of a woman is to love a man,__"_

"Maddie, how many glasses of champagne have you had so far up to now?" Meekness, humbleness highlighted the juvenile brunette's enquiry, whilst fastening the Michiganian's petite, gracefully flabby hands with her own grapple as their legs synchronized the tandem and escorting meekly the rhythm of the song. In the meanwhile, the naughtily easygoing light spring breeze was teasing the dancing pairings' bouncing strands and the flaming hems of their dresses and skirts across their thighs and knees. Even though Cassandra wasn't very keen fan of inebriation and insanely boozing liquor, the liquor-stained breathing of her recent closest friend conveyed modicum of queries behind the pungent fragrance of champagne, wafting across her button nose.

"Just only one!" After spinning the Michiganian helpfully, meaningfully, afterwards the animated humor of hers geared up a half-hearted, prim snicker, dripping marvelously from her peach pink painted lips even showing an additional piece of evidence indicating with a swan thumb promptly.

"Are you playing games with me?"

"Just for fun!"

"That means something which I can strongly smell it," After furthering their steps onward without bumping unintentionally awkward into one of the duos that were swapping their dancing skills with one another, mimicking their tunefully mellow voices to chant the song's lyrics momentarily after the juvenile blonde spun abruptly the brunette, trading with one another healthily guttural, artistic chuckles as their lips curved into huge, vibrant grins, wearing thousand patterns of mirth not only bleeding fatly from their broad slits inked on their faces, further, their embers and softened facial features as the champagne took a serious toll on the young adults as well. "Then!"

"Aren't we playing the Vermontian Sherlock and the Michiganian's Dr. Watson?" All of a sudden, Madeleine ushered her marbled, silky arms to draw inappropriately closer with meager proximity, gauged in less than an inch as their petite-frames were clashing and her megawatt champagne-stained breathing fanned the Vermontian's exemplarily glossy facial skin like gentle summer breeze in a late summer night. The stark violence in their heart pulsations hammered into their chests and their petite, vulnerable ears, muting each background noise and cloakingly with a fabulously dark, rotund cloak the other wedlock's guests as if their own small world was solely formulated for Madeleine and Cassandra. "I'm curious, sweetheart!" Even if the Michiganian's tipsiness wasn't oblivious after having her very first glass of sunny liquor, nevertheless, she managed to tuckle a fistful of stray light chestnut strands behind the older woman's ear reassuringly, nonchalantly as if the aftermaths of their pearly intimacy wouldn't cost anything at all. Sometimes the obdurately exorbitant inquisitiveness of Madeleine to share a long, passionate kiss with a representative of the same sex were questioning her sexuality or at least her briefly aroused interest that's going to be apocalyptically extinguished at last.

"B-But I'm married, Maddie!" Cassandra's tongue conjugated the timidly girlish vowels and syllables' feeble construction into a straightforward mumble without averting her dark embers from the younger lady. The intensity of the small space they traded with each other was obviously spellbinding their muscles and bones, bewitchingly sedating them with the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman's curiosity and stubborn yearning to savor once in her life another lady's insatiably cherub lips to seal with hers and molt into an everlastingly passionate kiss. "I've also children."

"I don't care. Your husband will think his beautiful wife is just joking to kiss another woman, because it's just the champagne that seriously took a toll on both of us."

"On every one of us." Sternly correcting her closest friend after manipulating her own elvish, ghostly palish hand's pristinely spidery fingers to trace her elegantly sculptured jaw line with its fingertips glithering sleekly, admiring the swan, femininely gracious curves of her very physique. "But you're right. Tipsiness won't be the detrimental reason why I just wanted to taste another woman's lips like what it feels like to kiss her than a man."

"_So come on baby let's start today, come on baby let's play__! __The game of love, love, la la la la la love__! __Come on baby 'cause the time is right__! __Love your daddy with all your might__! __Put your arms around me, hold me tight__  
Play the game of love__!_" In the interval, as the song's divine apogee was peaking with the last paragraphs of lyrics, the young blonde pressed a harmless peck onto the light brunette's cherub, lusciously silken lips with cupping her naturally chubby, well-carved cheeks into the palms of her creamily comforting hands whilst the older woman was fingering playfully and greedily twirling the Michiganian's aureate locks. The vigorously quiet smack of twains of mouths, sealing each other and sponging the dryly raw spots of their mouths as they savoured each other's food and liquid chunks that permeated and acutely affected their breath, whereas wrenching shut their eyelids to molt profoundly, arcanely into the kiss as the other surroundings' reactions were far cry from their apocalyptic concerns. The cheerful process of their dueling tongues against one another parted their lips into soft Os until the Michiganian's foreign tongue won the duel and triumpiantly plugging inside her friend's oral caverns, deepening into delightfully French kiss shortly after their kisses escalated to ferociously savage and hitching their breaths in no time.

"Where are you going, my rare bird?" As soon as the former devotional holy woman dragged vehemently her husband to the double table even though they haven't finished their dance on the recent song, the overindulgently iron-willed hunger commanded her cells to savor anything as soon as possible without an ado. It was the second time for today when Jude couldn't take an austere control over her peckish condition and food craves which occurred in the past few weeks. Furthermore, the British compatriot's concerns didn't vanish at all and witnessing the gluttony side of his wife especially on their matrimony was slightly concerning him, due to the fact, they're supposed to have fun even from time to time eat and drink, because today was a new day for them. A new day paralleling to a new chapter in their books of their life. "I-Is everything alright?" Towing the large-frame of the British compatriot towards her shorter figure as they maintained a meager distance with the double dining tables and perching her peachy rear on her own seat, whilst glancing approvingly at his still young-looking, parchment complexion without forcefully forcing him to seat alongside her, the luminescent brilliance glinted into Judy's caramel brown gems and illuminating the epitome of her peckishness. Shortly before snatching with her only free partly gloved hand her silverware, already used fork to finish wolfily her own dish of spring salad with its leftovers due to the distractingly entertaining dances, whereas Timothy's colossal, soothingly clement hand's fingers lingered on the grip and admiring the crispily soft feminine handy highlands.

"Mhm!" Just seconds before pronging another bite forcefully with her already equipped fork, the former pious nun shot an assuringly optimistic glimpse at his brutally honest cocoa brown gemstones, speaking vibrant and galore of emotions with its mirrored vista that guided his absolute reality. "Don't worry about my hunger at all!" Thoughtfully scratching the top of his head with his neatly trimmed, small fingernails to affirm his wife's words weren't enough to erase his resuscitated worries and swamp of questions, immersing his ocean of thoughts.

During the matrimony's celebration, at the moment Morgan Jill in the company of her cousin who was deprived from his biological father's family much earlier in his life Andy attended the nearby church of Halford as their presentable outfits for the pleasantly balmy early spring climate was suitable for their occasion.

Andy was actually a young gentleman in his mid-twenties with vaguely deliciously tanned skin tone, matching exquisitely with his graceful nose, naturally plump, pale-pinkish lips and dark, fuzzily thick eyebrows along with dark brown, naturally, neatly bushy hair, capping his head. Within his 6'3 height and his bulkily muscly body structure, structuring his masculine anatomy, he seemed quite taller compared to his cousin Morgan Jill. The son of the ill-famed serial killer was an electrician and has efficiently graduated from the technical university a year ago with flawless marks, calculating his actual hardwork and fantastic knowledge. Moreover, the Italian compatriot has dated twice girls during his high school years, in spite of the short-termed relationships that haven't endured for a half a year with unspeakable splits up. Last but not least, the last time when he's seen his biological father was actually a handful of decades ago when he's a kindergartener yet.

He didn't have any intentions of reuniting with his creator due to the nefariously frequent hair-rising crimes which he's acknowledged not only via horde of chattering strangers on the streets and his inner circle that has kept in touch with him yet, but also thanks to the breaking news on the newspapers, radio and the television.

Andy didn't even want even to ponder complexly about the nefarious serial killer of Vermont and his venomous malicy. Andy didn't even regret for distancing from Cayden and hardly coveting to have any associations with him. No matter if it's his father or anybody else from his biological family, the electrician had his own fresh start in his life and his deep, platonic connection with his cousin Morgan Jill awe-inspiringly brought them together as cousins and uniting as a bond together against the psychopath's identity.

In the interim, Father Kellan kneeled beside the altar, knotting his pristinely meaty fingers whilst bowing docilely his head and wrenching shut his eyelids during his half-hearted recit in mumble an afternoon prayer, sensing the sentimentally ghosting presence of the recent chapel visitors which interrupted his prayer.

"F-Father!" The younger platonic pairing's series of stammers, sluggishly sailing out of their wet, strawberry-coloured tongues attracted Kellan Teagan's attention promptly as he managed to make the Sign of the Cross beside the monumentally majestic, holy cross and sheepishly turning to face the owners' velvety stammer with inspecting in a scrutiny his current chapel visitors. "Good day and God bless you!" Even though Morgan Jill appeared to be more pious than her cousin, they're attending once a week the church and reuniting with the other Halfords as a community.

"God bless you, my children! What brings you there on this part of the day, my child?" The honeyed, raspy timbres, honing up his northern lilt's accent smoothed his inquiry followed with his politeness, coupled elegantly after managing to retrieve the both younger adults' hands to pepper their brittle knuckles with tenderly celestial, gentleman kiss as their hearts heavenly raced as the priest's touch heated the pits of their stomachs spontaneously.

"In spite of we haven't kept in touch with the infamous Vermont's serial killer that appears to be my father and her uncle," Gesturing with one of his mammoth, artistically satin hand the Romanian compatriot, the young gentleman's chest constricted its refreshing oxygen that flushed his nostrils shortly before interrupting the brief pause at the thought of his father's criminal deeds and sinister identity, opting to sort his mind after the ferociously abusive heart pulsations clobbered his ribcage as if the heart attack was approaching sooner than later. Meantime, the trio's silhouettes were waltzing on the luxuriously velvet crimson aisle of God's façade, eerily mirroring their mortal figures interacting with one another. A vaguely sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of Father Kellan's pale-pinkish, plumpish lips as he was all ears. "I perfectly recall something I've seen with my own eyes when I was a still baby." Struggling to swig the soarly bittersweet lump, seething his Adam's apple due to the harshly overbearing early childhood memory of contemplating and noting his father's diabolically gruesome silhouette of Mammon, the unholy lord of the deadliest sin greed, the electrician glimpsed clumsily light-footed at the monumentally tall, luxurious cross and battered chapel's window as a project of natural sunlight's saturating showering rays curtaining palishly their faces and unruly strands.

"Have you ever witnessed or seen that devilish silhouette of your uncle, my child?"

"I have had." Moistening her chapped, plump lips after twirling her berry-coloured, wet tongue to sponge her upper and lower lips nimbly, she withheld the intense gaze with the religious clergyman. Blunt candor glimmered into her huge, roundish silver-amber cabochons, incarnating her true nature of the truth and one of a kind individuality. "And that dark shadow of his demon didn't speak anything to me except how malicious he appears to be eventually."

"To assure you, my children, even if a good person has this devilish silhouette, representing each deadly sin's demon, that means something else."

"W-What exactly?" Swapping perplexed gawks were darted to the middle-aged man, fixing his neatly ivory priest collar with his nimble, virginally strong fingers, his azure blue jewels pierced truthfully, assuringly their perplexed gawks without dabbing off his promisingly radiant smile, tattooed on his yet youthful, parchment face. Father Kellan Teagan knew everything about the mystic silhouettes of the people which were embodying each deadly sin demon, despite how innocent or criminally vicious they're actually.

"By judging what I've read so far, those shadows of the deadly sin demon they represent, they used to be somebody else in their own past lives as they're cursed with that deadly sin. For example, if in your past life you used to be a woman that had been murderously jealous which was out of the accepted borderlines, therefore you're cursed with that silhouette of its deadly sin haunting you for the rest of your days." Shortly before beginning his meaningfully rational monologue, Father Kellan cleared his throat with a soft cough and muffling its crude timbre, pronging his featherly soft, alabaster palm.

\- _Later that Day_ -

Within several hours with its evolution of the daily episode's anomaly from daylight to nighttime and recollecting opulent of joyous memories and moments on the matrimony's celebration with being photographed by a professionally handy photographer to snap galore of remarkable photos of the wedding guests and the recently married couple, subsequently the couple celebrated the rest of their most prominent day with eating chocolate candies with grape and sharing glasses of memorably authentic Italian red wine, besides spending time with their baby son and kitten and making lustfully love to each other before bedtime.

As the former devotional clergyman was awaiting for his wife to join him in their king-sized bed to drift off asleep and trade mutually uniquely melting cuddles in the suffocating doldrum, the former sister of the church's emphaticity to test her pregnancy whilst brushing her teeth was ongoing as the pregnancy test was kipping motionlessly on the marbled sink as her deftly dainty fingers maneuvred the toothbrush to lather her upper and lower enamel with whitening the sites of food chunks. Her long mop of lusterly gilded curls curtained her ghostly pale, full profile as her wine red silky, seductive nighttie extraordinarily hugged her swan curves. The running steam of jet water splashing the sink's fragile marbled surface pitched the en-suite bathroom.

After her lathered mouth contacted the running translucent jet water with swigging a few times mothfully lukewarm liquid into her oral caverns and bluntly tossing them, thereafter the pregnancy test unnervingly, boldly ticked its final results after a few minutes of patient anticipation. The double lines monitored the blonde's results of her pregnancy which she resiliently anticipated and hesitated in the past days to take the hazard of testing herself in the bathroom or somewhere in the sleeping loneliness.

Fakening her heavy, rusty pants under her breath, solely discernible for her after turning off the sink's faucet and the bathroom's resilient silence gnawed all over again, Judy's overwhelmed reaction to her spontaneous pregnancy after making love to Timothy a several times from the last month up to now were obvious and foreshadowing the sequence of her recent condition and the genuine symptoms of pregnancy.

She could scarcely believe she's going to be mother again in the midlife stage of her life within her approaching fifities.

Author's Note: Do you think there's a possibiility the mystery's solution with the devillish silhouettes is going to be quite soon? Do the pregnancy speculations are approaching its apogee? If you predicted correctly Jude's pregnancy after witnessing the final scene from this chapter, with what do you think she's pregnant with?

And of course, don't forget to comment your favorite moments from the new chapter! I hope you liked and enjoyed the new chapter as well! :))


	28. Blood-Curdling Adventures

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"Dad, she doesn't want to give me my Thomas! __I want my Thomas and her death."_

_Who tossed that stuffed animal and almost didn't kick the bucket of the Christmas tree, ladies?"_

_"I was wondering how many glasses of champagne would be worth for a good dance."_

_"Frank, don't you ever dare thinking of dancing your tipsy ass in front of the kids! Jude and Tim won't be fine with seeing their old friend being such a turdsandwich. Even their little cherub angelic prince is disagreeing with seeing you tipsy."_

_"In spite of we haven't kept in touch with the infamous Vermont's serial killer that appears to be my father and her uncle, I perfectly recall something I've seen with my own eyes when I was a still baby."_

_"Have you ever witnessed or seen that devilish silhouette of your uncle, my child?"_

Despite the resiliently suffocating doldrum, awkwardly kipping in the conveniently warm swaddled bedroom where the only very presence was occupied by the British compatriot as its conveniently gracious duvet blanketed partly his figure, he was profoundly worried over the former pious woman of the cloth's absence that endured for slightly longer than the common. An uncommon delay in the bathroom which could be interpreted in diversity of versions and exemplars for every one, reckoning Timothy, himself. It could be a genuine sign of anything mystically surprising. Or at least wee hints of anything.

Even though nothing wrong could happen in the bathroom, due to the fact, the en-suite bathroom didn't have its own window and leading to the dynamically horrifying sequence of a daredevil offender break into the two-story property of the former members of the church and Timothy was fortunately in the bedroom, everything is possible. Despite the former pious clergyman's major knowledge in the female anatomy and its processes' bonus information, he could interpret Jude's postpone in a few variants from his individual logic. First and foremost, it could be a forthcoming menopause transition or rather perimenopause, due to her relentless age. As common, the ladies circa his wife's age were unavoidably going through the menopause transition's process that was inevitable and its dynamic roller coaster of symptoms that wickedly occurred. The second thought that crossed deftly the British aristocrat was the possible chances of a second pregnancy, phenomenally predominating into his wife by judging its symptoms that are unspeakably commonly encountered into her such as mood swings, food craves which were inevitably eye-catching for him during their wedding ceremony illustrated the genuine notion of her excessive covet to savor anything associated with food and the indisputably hopeless morning sickenesses, clashing with them every early morning before getting ready for work.

Another pregnancy's delightfully sweet, inebriating savor laced straightforwardly the British aristocrat's tongue after mindly, consciously picturing the possible scenarios of the blonde occupying with her very presence the en-suite bathroom for more than a handful of minutes.

Despite the filthily tremendous fortune the small family possessed actually, no matter if one or three more new additions to the family are acquired emphatically, it would be a worth challenge for Timothy and Jude to take care of one more soul, invitingly, kindheartedly welcomed in the nuke family as well. Time, attention and affection would be the very top in their altruistic sacrifice to rear their new additions. The money wouldn't compensate how challengingly difficult it could be for the former devotional members of the clergy to take care of more than one child. It wasn't even a child's play for them to rear Edward Ralph up to the sixth month of his life at all.

Even though the Bostonian could find herself in a sheer euphoria and dumbfoundness, clouding her overwhelmed hurricane of thoughts with the recent results of the pregnancy test and leaking its absolute reality, her round knees couldn't stabilize her straightened posture except sedating and draining unceasingly the physical stamina, constructing her anatomy with pelting down her twin knees to contact the tiled floor. The haphazardness of its thud pitched the background's resilient, dull doldrum.

"P-Pregnant?" Reciting in murmur, awkwardly rolled into a stammer with mellow timbre sailing out of her mouth after hooking her flimsily creamy, marbled fingers around the pregnancy test, stifling series of gasps and further noises to be elaborated shortly after clamping her front still firm, ivory teeth to gnaw on the raw spot of her lower plumpish lip thoughtfully, flabbergastedly. Twin chubby, bountifully soar tears sloppily swayed onto her lower eyelids and trickling downward her creamy, well-scuptured cheeks at the second amusing pregnancy that spookily altered her night on thirty and sixty degrees. "It's impossible!" Her solely free elvish, alabaster hand's fingertips managed to prop her dropped in duck head's glossy forehead, fixating her glassily flabbergasted hazelish-brown big, roundish jewels on the pregnancy test's recent results with their bewitching aftermaths. Even though the former pious sister of the church came to the conclusion that her luck is far cry from low spirited for her age and she's too lucky to be become a mother for second time within seven months at least, nevertheless, it didn't cease her disappointment from the greedily lucrative, manipulative doctor granting her a broken promise for her fertility back in her younger years.

The entire clash of explicitly heartbreaking sugarcoatedly ugly lies that was once the actual ugly truth, itself, brightly stark contrasting to the naked truth of the absolute reality echoed throughout into the Bostonian's hurricane of thoughts and stilling to listen to the echo of the lucratively greedy doctor that lied to her she's infected with syphilis from her first ever love. It was grotesquely morbid and heartbreaking with its unmasked lie in the thickly unpredictable mask of the truth, falling out of its sugarcoated personage abruptly and diminishing its glossiness and shimmering brightly, bleakly the naked reality of the solved dilemma with the fertility. Sooner or later, every lie was strong-willedly exposed, regardless the owner's slyness and mastery in tricksterness.

What it hurted more than anything Jude for blindly, diabolically believing a pure remnant of lie for a few decades before and after dwelling out of the past life she's been through its ordeals, the pregnancy and motherhood were the welcoming presents, embracing her with open arms celestially to grace her current life as a loving mother, spectacular wife and a brilliantly responsible and diligent flowerstore saleswoman and a well-organized leader.

All of a sudden, the British aristocrat registered his colossal, veiny hand to unwrap the duvet from his figure, in order to seat on the edge of the king-sized bed for a split second and thus hopping up in the convenient, plain pair of slippers by aiming up to the en-suite bathroom to check on his wife, flushing his nostrils with a heavy, jadedly concerned sigh.

As soon as he straightened his posture and marched up to the en-suite bathroom's wooden door, subsequently he ushered his hand to fashion into a balled fist to rap on the door a couple of times, keeping the older lady's wits about his recent condition and very presence.

"Rare bird, is everything okay?" The elaborating process of the vowels and syllables to reproduce a rational enquiry, oozing of its genuine concerns tingled alarming tones into the blonde's ears like an absent, forgotten ballad of its light, aggressively howling summer breeze in a summer night, in spite of her sheer oblivion and her excessive focus on the current results of the pregnancy test. "Rare bird," Anticipating fashionably presentable for a rational response or at least a farther reaction from the Bostonian, it was a perfectly normal, spontaneously embarrassing moment for the British compatriot. An eerie flat line blurred each pattern, texturing with any wee hints of mirth or despondence, twisted across his face. The mellow timbre, chanting the friendly, romantically amorous nickname of the older woman didn't even attract a small glimpse of her attention, unfortunately. It wasn't under any form of a smile, nor a frown. Just fairly embodying the whole weight of worries clinging to his facial attributes.

"We'll have a baby in the next seven months at least." Hysterically rising the decibels of her Boston lilt, amalgamating with her happiness, resembling as if she's on cloud nine, ideally illustrating each lady's reaction when they fathom the efficient changes, turning their lives on 360 degrees with the future family additions they're about to be welcomed dearly. Initially, the former aspiring Monsignor's incredulity roughly contoured his handsome facial attributes with boldly lowering his mammoth, weathered hand to encounter the doorknob and thereafter turn it until the sight of his lover with the pregnancy test on the tiled floor and her sheer, childish excitement depicting the genuinely contagious felicity, traded between the married partners. "Timothy, look! Immediately!" Even though the hysterically euphoric undertone, resiliently touching her command, the authority didn't cease to apt to Timothy to shift his direct attention to the final tests' results with dumping the askew broadly opened the door of the bathroom and consequently hunkering past his wife's petite-frame, whose knees are lingering their prominent brush on the tiled flooring.

"W-We're expecting a second baby?" The timidness in his velvety voice genuinely punctured the sharp accent of his breathtakingly ecstatic humor, painting his facial attributes and daubing each pattern of appalling, strict incredulity. "That's miraculously unbelievable. We've to celebrate it." At the moment, the younger man managed to throw his potently muscular, secure arms to brace his wife's slim waist after glimpsing fleetly at the pregnancy test's results at last. Their hearts vehemently leaped in their ribcage and scarcely relying on halting the triggering circling motion and hammers, whereas broadly straight-forward, coy grins decorated their faces, freshly and broadly misted with the dim light illumination of the site.

"Yar having no idea what on the world means to me to have another child," Accepting gladly the tight, kindheartedly doting embrace, Judy ushered her satin, lean arms to secure her husband's upper back, burying her teary, doe complexion in the crook of his arm, in order to evade the bright veil of light to expose her stickily salty, drenched in her own tears facial skin, pale enough to enlighten each discreet detail behind her realistic, majestic illustration of the happy mother and wife. "With nobody else than my lovely, " Clearing featherly soft her raspy, rusty throat with a tearful cough, sobbing, she clutch shut her doe eyelids to allow the heavy rain of steamy, translucent tears to gush down freely, perkily her well-carved cheeks. "One of a kind," Tighetning the embrace with her entire strength was a lucrative trade of buoyant gasps, slipping from their mouths deftly. "Husband! Yar still making me the happiest woman ever lived in this world, ya know!"

"You're rather the one who makes me the happiest man ever living in this world!" Joining the duet of their tearfully mirthful heartwarming words, chanted mutually, consequently the decibels diminished into threadbare whispers, tingling angelic anthems into their vulnerable ears. The hug didn't fail to be interrupted at all. "Thank you for everything and for gracing not only ourselves with one more addition to that splendid family, but also our lovely cherub angel to have a beautiful little sister or an adorable little brother of his!"

Their very first thoughts and predictions on their forthcoming addition to their nuclear family was either another boy with curly golden hair, curtaining his palish profile and big, rotund chocolate brown jewels or on the contrary one of a kind girl with mop of aureate curls, flawlessly mantling her porcelain, round profile, paired with huge, expressively inquisitive cocoa brown gemstones. No matter their sexes, their future additions to the family would be benevolenty, sacredly gifted with the most adorable smiles, ornating their facial features.

Furthermore, the forthcoming unborn child's new home in the monumentally endless world was due in November and the former devotional members of the church had enough time to think wisely even jot down on a list their ideas for the ideal name for their future ray of sunshine, besides researching books for names that looks the best for them at least.

"I was pretty scared I may be through the perimenopause right away instead of getting pregnant." Shortly after the couple broke off the embrace, throughout they took their time to admire their one another's unblemishedly beautiful facial attributes, lingering their grins with their rich decoration. What it frankly scared the former sister of the church at first was not having her period twice in the past two months, due to the inescapable pregnancy. Her very first speculations were either a hallowed pregnancy or otherwise a relentless, murderous perimonepause along with experiencing the initial symptoms. It didn't matter to her anymore if she isn't going to have her own regular periods or having the common morning sicknesses, as much as the second unborn ray of sunshine was living inside her bestowed her and her husband with a pure, indisputable happiness, nothing else mattered to them anymore as their sharp accent spotlighted the second child's prominent appearance within a several months. Even though the same old challenges awaited them to present the performance of their patience through the advancing time, they were pretty aware of how to keep safe and sound the unborn baby just like they did with Edward when his appearance was far cry from the crudely cold, big world nonetheless. "I was being through the first stages of that perimenopause."

"Shh, shh, shh, everything is fine! Everything will be fine as always we've persevered to be, Jude!" The former ambitious Monsignor's persistent attempts to attract Judy's attention didn't die at all and jumpcut to her feline, unspeakably blissful ogle, darted to the owner's serene consolation, lulled honeyed, mellowly to her with its resemblance of a parent, trying his best to wisely, lovingly soothe his child after his toy was broken by an accident. "We've to just stay strong as we've always did, no matter when our lovely little cherub angel wasn't there then or," A sudden pause prominently hammered his naturally baby-pinkish, chapped lips, whereas his pristinely protective, meaty fingers kneaded on circles her loins on reflex, reflecting the true, extraordinary spell of the younger gentleman's attempts to console his rare bird. In the interim, the double gigantic, bleakly dark silhouettes of the duo manipulating their own mirrored physiques on the tiled wall, sheepishly danced and incarnated their hidden unnatural possessions. "Or when we had to deal with the car crash and everything where the patience was a little bit more worth than anything in this world."

"The patience," Series of insecurely limping stutters sailed out of the blonde's tongue tip, molting candidly, dotingly into her husband's amorous, calm words, welling in a celestially nonchalant fountain of bizarre, arcanely comforting sweet nothings. "Was always worth during our journey to redemption, regardless how big stone cold bitch I used to be to you and the others who really gave a damn about my very being." Shaking faintly her head, in order to sort adequately her mind, the former licentious jazz nightclub singer manipulated to twirl her wet, strawberry-coloured tongue to lick with great deal of sheer greed her lower and upper chapped, plumpish lips, lingering her amorously piercing ogle at her lover's pools of profoundly promising, tender coffee brown. The soar metallic, rusty flavor of the unthinkable nickname she directly, categorically labeled herself cloudily hazed the British aristocrat's earbuds due to the unimaginably painful timbres of its utterance, composed in its true, default vowels and syllables.

"You weren't a big stone cold bitch. You were just being through a lot and if I were you, honestly," Cradling gingerly, delicately her smaller head into his masculinely large, protective hands, whereas their hearts terminated abruptly and then bewilderingly leaped in the heartwarming, starkly truthful words, constructiong the revelation of the former holy priest. "I would do the same thing just like you, because our journey was one of the hardest to achieve that atonement which was tremendously," Tracing daintly, mellowly with flabbergastingly warm, reassuring fingertips a femininely delicate jaw line after dumping the cradle of her head kindheartedly. In the meantime, the former licentious nightclub singer's ears molted truly, gently into the angelic anthems' ode, rooming through her ears after being eloquently reproduced by its own outstanding owner. "Tremendously worth it, despite the hardships trying their best to separate us in the most possible insidious way without having any modicum of mercy for the wretched souls."

"The hardships will be never capable of separated strong bonds like ours. We're inseperable without any doubt."

"Exactly! That's what it makes us strong, persevering anything that bumps into our way." All of a sudden, the former aspiring Monsignor managed to press a featherly soft, welcoming peck on the older lady's button, graceful nose as his naturally nude pink, plump lips bedaubed smoothly its facial attribute's tissue. "I have never seen stronger woman than you, Jude!"

"Y-You want to tell right into my face no other lady could be stronger?"

"Exactly! You're the strongest. I genuinely admire this trait of yours and I wish Edward and our unborn ray of sunshine," The haphazardness of the former ambitious Monsignor's maneuvered colossal, consolingly warm hand to paw friendly, vibrantly the small bump of the former pious nun, whereas his masculinely meaty, potent fingers carefully cradled and fingered the fleshy tissue, admiring its size of the unborn cherub angel's current temporal sanctum of his development and life. "Take that strength and stamina of yours for granted."

"Edward has always been an undeniably hardwearing little gentleman, although the car crash and the stressful desperations, whirling in our nuclear family."

"That truly means he's part of us and he will give a splendid example to the future generations after us who will be the one that is in charge of."

"When it comes up to personality traits that are exchangeable in the family via its roots."

"Definitely!" Ushering their heads in tandeming nods, reaffirming the positions of their façades, an emphatically bashful, trembling chuckle hammered Judy's wet, berry-coloured tongue. "It's inescapable process of its contagious characters that are swapping mutually its personality traits and the younger ones who will build their own generations like Edward and our future family addition."

\- _The Next Morning_ -

\- _27th of March, 1966_ -

When the impending morning slowly bled into the daily daylight episode's celestially inviting, majestic sanctum of early spring's sunny blanket, swaddling friendly the strangers and the outstanding nature, the former members of the church decided to pay a visit to the nigh hospital with scarcely arranging their visit to the doctor about consulation about the recently encountered symptoms of the pregnancy's first trimester.

Shortly before the married couple left their privately owned two-story mansion to pay a visit to the doctor without an exceeding arranged appointment, they brushed their teeth, having an entertaining breakfast with their son and feeding not only him, but also the three-month-old kitten Stephen even spending modicum of their time to bestow them with myriad of unconditional love and warmness. In addition to their morning schedule, they got ready for leaving the privately owned property for awhile.

"What may I help with, Mister and Mrs. Howard?" A senior doctor in the beginning of his fifties with unceasingly balding scalp and ridiculously short mop of raven black curly strands apt to ornate his head, coupled gracefully with his baldy, naturally thick eyebrows, big nose and medium-sized, roundish pools of profoundly glassy apple green. His body structure was rotund and his height could be measured approximately 5'10 for his age, exquisitely matching with his graciously tanned skin tone. Last but not least, Dr. Armin Clarkson's Canadian lilt didn't cease to diminish the decibels into a murmur, whilst reproducing the velvety, professionally formal enquiry to his current visitors in his austerely furnished office. The lavish fragrance of cinnamon, coffee and lilacs, amalgamating with the medicaments' rich scent meagerly ceased to not permeate past Jude, Timothy and Edward Ralph's tiny, flexible nostrils.

"Well, the last night I took a pregnancy test, acquiring the final results of it just in a few minutes as it shows its certain positivity." A heavy sigh flushed her nostrils shortly before gently, tenderly rocking the six-month-old baby boy, whereas maintaining an appropriately sincere eye contact with the senior doctor, whose lukewarm round apple green bijous were fixated on the trio, howsoever, mostly shifting his attention to the blonde and assimilating each word, elaborated by her nimble tongue. In the meanwhile, the baby boy's huge, roundish honey brown bijous drank affectionately the prospect of its formal chat between his mother and the foreign doctor for his vision. His gaze begged for his creator's immediate attention or at least modicum of altruism satiating his needs. "I was just quite anxious by judging I've missed two periods for this and the last month so far." A strong-willedly stubborn clash of vowels and syllables waltzed slowly but surely into the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's throat and subsequently silver-tonguedly, headstrongly crafting them under the form of a confession, truthfully explaining her recent condition and the foreshadowed sequence of missing her both periods for this and the last month.

"Mrs. Howard, did you face the typical symptoms which every lady does when she's missing her period such as," At the moment, the British compatriot manifested to snake his potently toned, silkenly protective arm around Jude's middle, in order to grant her myriad of unconditional love, murderous warmness and tremendous comfort, whereas his solely free colossal, veiny hand managed to linger his bony fingers with its series of soothing, tender strokes, grazing their son's short mop of glossy chestnut strands.

"Yes, actually!" Clearing politely her throat with a soft cough, fortunately, muffled with one of her petite, elegantly gloved hands for a temporal dramatic pause, while maneuvering her tongue to twirl outside her oral caverns, in order to lick greedily, sheepishly her chapped, roseate lips. "Morning sicknesses. Food cravings. Mood swings." The adaption of listing a handful of the crucial symptoms, commonly encountered in every pregnant lady didn't cease to unamuse Armin, weakly, pathetically raising an arch of his bald, lukewarm eyebrow with fleetly dexterous motion, indicating its pace. Poetic pinkness bountifully, playfully tickled the wed pairing' well-carved, chubby cheeks. The ominous adaption to playing and fingering absent-mindedly, sweetly Edward Ralph's daintily chubby fingers attempted to keep his wits about his importance even when the former pious sister of the church's devotion to her hectic schedule and activities, balefully refilling her leisure. A primly vague, beaming smile curved upon her naturally rosy-coloured, cherub lips, stilling its manipulation of the wee slit, prominently decorating her porcelain, unblemishedly elderly youthful profile. "Furthermore, if ya question for how long I've been like this, it's circa a month."

"By judging how old your son is right now and the last time when you've been in a labour," Meantime, elderly meaty, arduously dexterous fingers of the older gentleman hooked around his glass of freshly cool, relaxing liquid and gulping a polite tiny sip of it to hydrate his organs and oral caverns for a momental pause, eerily awkward ghosting the eloquently elating daylight birdsongs outside. The magnificence of its vibrantly radiant sunlight, filtering with its promisingly saturating light the sufficiently expansive room in divinely aureate curtain, pale enough beautifully to curtain the exposed fleshes and facial attributes of the group of occupants of the doctor's site. "You're risking with your recent pregnancy to give a birth to premature child in less than eight months." The suddenness of the curved into a pensive, cautious purse of the British compatriot's nude pink lips, taunted to fasten the grapple of his wife's waist and intensifying its tightness.

"A premature child?" Suddenly twin fat, crystally translucent tears gingerly lurched onto her lower eyelids, tarrying pearly her bony, spidery fingers to idly play with her little ray of sunshine's tiny, pudgy hand in reflex to diminish the nerve of her invincibly gruesome self-consciousness.

"Yes, Mrs. Howard!"

"I can't take the sudden risk of getting rid off it just because it's going to be premature due in November."

"Mrs. Howard, are you pretty aware of the risks that await your future child just a half a year after becoming a mother for first time?" The recurring jet of twin chubby, luster cataracts unholily terrified trickled downward and her facial attributes' incredulity maliciously veiled them, whilst abstaining from making scenes in the doctor's office with a handful of painfully doe sniffles, breaking her facial expression abruptly. The unthinkable hazard taking in her own bare hands to keep her unborn baby inside her womb until its ultimate development brought her dose of unforgivingly bittersweet tears, speaking emotions about her boldness. Even though the unborn child was a month and a few weeks old solely, it was still early to determine categorically what's the best to carry on, although the hazards anticipating its somber aftermaths of giving a birth to the new family addition with prematureness. The maternal instincts engulfed the middle-aged lady into a compact bubble, where her crystal worldview and one of a kind individuality kept her yet different from the other peers, sharing the same age, different lives and sequence of their decisions nonetheless.

"I do."

"Not only there are higher chances of your future child to develop more health issues, moreover let's not forget it will be smaller and it will have mainly problems with the breathing, brain, heart and so forth."

"I'm going to keep that baby inside me unless our lives are extremely endangered when it comes up to my health condition." Stiffling series of frustrated, breathy grunts under her breath with nibbling between her front ivory, still firm for her age teeth her lower cracked lip, the Bostonian registered an authoritative oath, forged with austerely unwelcoming, harshly frosty vowels and syllables' undertones, building her oath. "I don't care if I'm going to give a birth to a tiny piece of meat or an average one, anything to deprive my very second addition to this family I've always craved to have will be under no circumstances."

"Mrs. Howard, are you completely sure you want to keep this unborn child, despite its future risks when it emerges in this world?" Although the professional senior doctor whose opulent medical career has been measured in the range of a handful of decades of promisingly diligent, modestly versatile hardwork with variety of patients stepping in his office, the meaningful fear roared into the older man's caution as a last warning, granting Jude's last chance to deliver her emphatic answer between keeping her unborn baby stilling its population inside her tiny bump or on the contrary getting rid off it under the form of abortion and risking her body to go through devilishly barbaric, unseen pain of pristinely steel medical tools bashing the embryo with a sorely explicit penetration through her slit. Even though the abortion was certainly less painful and hazardous in the first trimester up to the second half of the second trimester, the former sister of the church didn't have any intentions of taking into her own hands another hazard that would deprive her from her fertility, besides it's still a tough decision for the Bostonian to embrace with open arms the consequences of having a premature baby in less than a year. Last but not least, Judy didn't find the doctors quite likeable or rather candidly hospitable for her own like. After living with the starkly glacial sugarcoated lie of infertility and barren emptiness in the matter of years after her first copulations with Casey and paying a visit to the doctor whose greediness escalated to faking the carnal diagnose of her syphilis, in order to earn his filth fortune via a vulnerably gullible patient like her, the debilitation of her exposed, vulnerable trust to the medical experts when it comes up fertility and children, exacerbated her nerves to limp until an ablaze adrenaline' spawns seeded and flourished efficiently into her figure.

"Absolutely, Doctor! It's my body, it's my baby and yar efforts to scare me with having a premature baby just when I found out that I'm pregnant past a day even though I carry this fresh life inside me for a whole month," The harshly cold-blooded increastion of the former nun's decibels in her retaliation, dripping from her naturally nude pink, chapped lips hardly startled even glazed with flinch Armin's fleshily flappy muscles, whereas the series of honeyed, mellowly reassuring whispers and sweet nothings emanating from Timothy roomed her first petite, flexible ear and subsequently sloppily skid out of her other ear, trying his best to enforce fiercely his consolation over the former devotional woman of the cloth even though her strongly stubborn nature, howling aggressively inside her. "And when he or she is there, fortunately, it will be a year and two months after having my previous baby." Dark sardonism remarkably howled her snicker which her rosy-coloured, plump lips curved to part in a soft O balefully to expose her angrily ire from the medical experts' hypocrisy, celestially, unimaginably thirsting for tremendous fortune bolt from the blue, whereas Armin's facial attributes momentarily hardened sternly, trustlessly, spellbinded by his current visitor's fierce inflammatory, illuminating starkly her incredulity towards the medical expert's professional advice. In spite of the former religious clergyman's attempts to halt his lover from her fiery ire, roaring relentlessly into her, it was oblivious and deliriously unthinkable to be capable of unmasking the other doctor's visitor true face, unmasking the glossiness with purely hallowed diplomacy, readable all over his freshly young-looking face.

"Jude!" The suddenness of the honed in its sharpness address, emanating from the British compatriot jingled caught off guard-tones, elaborating the depths of her bones and muscles' stability under the bewitchingly unbeatable hex, casted to sedate and weaken promptly heated the pit of her stomach.

"I warned you, ma'am, no matter if you are in labour in eight months or hopefully a few years later, you will be looking forward for my advice."

"Are ya watching yarself whatever comes from you, Doctor?" Meanwhile, the blonde's intentions of fleeing lastly in the utmost moment of the private appointment with the older man, lingering her tight grapple dotingly securing her six-month-old infant, were rabidly rapid inflating. The piercing glare of the pair of pools of abysmally expressive, straightforward honey brown pronged Armin's doubtlessly vibrant tanned façade and ushering haul slowly but surely her rear from the chair, overlooking Timothy's comforting grapple that secured her middle. "Lies on top of lies. That's what ya," Managing her nostrils savagely fiery flare, the inflammatory whisper almost died on her dry fat of her strawberry-coloured tongue. "The doctors do so that to earn money by exposing your bald-faced lies under the form of a threat."

"Rare bird!" In spite of the younger man's sheer sympathy for his wife and comprehending her recent position, it meekly distressed him railing fluently the train vagons of the awful disquietude, unconditional nonplus and murderous nonchalance, coursing through his veins. Even though Jude and Timothy were contrastingly bright opposites in finding the exact solution to aggravate the chances of another issue's core, the wrath of the former holy woman and the sheer nonchalance, oozing of the diplomatic British aristocrat stretched the very elasticity of their meager proximity. At the moment, during the heated debate's escalation to ruckus, swaddling icily the doctor's office, the middle-aged lady shot a fleet glance at her husband for reconsidering her own position against the façade of the senior doctor, in case, to find any support in her decision. "That's enough."

"It will be enough when I'm done. This doctor needs a splendid lesson to be taught for his lucrative greed that saved his skin from the poverty," Lowering momentarily the decibels of the raspiness of her grunt prominently transmuted into a reprimanding mutter, maintaining a nimble eye contact with the British aristocrat and the doe expansion of her indiscernible midnight black pupils glazed with fierce fury, readable all over her facial features. Even though the medical professional's second nature adapted to similar patients'complaints who had stepped once in his office for consulation or any other reason at least, his sheer, sly calmness didn't cease to dumbfound the former members of the church whilst crooking his masculinely meaty, promisingly ingenious fingers around the glass of water, docilely sipping of its transparent liquid. "By accepting patients like me just to take away their money for his indulgence that is against the law."

"Jude, I know what you've been through, however, a heated debate won't save you from them!" The optimism, cusping with stark, grotesque realism presentably crawled its unwelcoming cool snake in the pit of Judy's stomach abruptly as the pairing were getting ready to flee the room within less than a minute under the gawk of the senior doctor, suckling on his upper lip thoughtfully, nervously. "I'm really sorry for that ruckus, Doctor! My wife has being through a lot lately. But thank you so much for giving us your time for your word!" Meantime, when the former members of the church eagerly dumped their former temporal seats and aiming to the hardwood, oak door, a prim, vague smile perched on the older gentleman's lips, reassuringly reaffirming the former holy priest's position and earning for last time twains of eyes, wearing diversity patterns, texturing their expressive indiscernibly dark pupils, donned up in variety nuances of their cloaks. The lighter cloaks compassionately swaddled Timothy and Edward's irises with sheer optimism, mischievous nonchalance, brightly contrasting the Bostonian's pools of deeply emotional, poetic honey brown, spearing with its scintillating glare the doctor's apple green gems. As if the Grim Reaper has actually found its new home into the former sleazy nightclub singer's poetic honey brown gemstones and sharpening the opacity of its inviting, vibrant light, purely illuminating every ounce of her absolutely realistic contemplation. Notwithstanding the heated debate, Timothy wasn't quite fond of the doctors and meaningfully respecting Jude's somber journey through the doctors' offices for council even though he was strongly against the inflammatory language to be frankly spoken in the name of the justice. "Goodbye and have a nice day!" Shortly before the younger gentleman's colossal, soothingly creamy hand manifested to perch on the doorknob, his naturally berry-coloured, plump lips curved a weak, childlikely benevolent smile to assure the both participants in the heated debate whose annulment frostily disappointed the middle-aged mother, shaking recurringly her head in disagreement and having the nerve yet to continue persuading Armin's wrongness. The adrenaline rabidly erupted into the heart pulses of Judy, ruthlessly megawatt thudding into her ribcage.

"Goodbye and have a nice day, Mr. and Mrs. Howard!" Within swinging broadly opened the oak door and permeating its large scale of space, politely providing to the trio to step out of the room and earning lukewarm glances and stares, divinely fixated on them.

"I didn't mean to make scenes, but this doctor reminded me of that one who faked my infertility, Timothy!"

"I'm not a lawyer or something, but it wasn't appropriate from you to raise your voice as if he was a kid." Distancing their figures with a couple of inches from Armin's office as soon as possible, the couple registered to retire in the middle of the dim lit abysmally long hallway of the building, whereas the infamous serial killer's daughter seated on one of the chairs past Armin's office, uneasily bouncing her legs in an uneven, girlish drum. In the meanwhile, her elvish, palish weathered hands landed on her small bump, efficiently bulging up her lower abdomen. Her smoky quartz bijous acutely pronging with a scintillatingly bright, bleak glare the pairing after recognizing her worst foes leaving the doctor's office, flattening her mouth into a merciless, hideously arcane frown, twisted across her youthfully refreshing, gorgeous facial features. "He's a doctor and tried his best to give you his word on the pregnancy and so forth."

"How do ya think I'd dump this unborn baby, because of him?" The recurring series of comforting bounces and swings of the infant, scooped securely into her leanly velvet arms weren't reassuring enough for Edward Ralph to dedicate his aroused interest into his parents' body language and wee discussion about their recent doctor's visit which was a clear disappointment for the former pious sister of the church. His huge, symmetrically roundish caramel brown bijous examined in a scrutiny each discreet detail behind the phenomenal body language and mannerism even timbres of Jude and Timothy, indicated in their wee heated discussion. "I'd rather have a premature baby rather than a dead baby. Furthermore, when we're going to expect our second addition to the family, it's going to be already the first year and second month after having our very first one."

"I can't second on his statement we're going to have a premature baby, because there are plenty other factors that determine how perfectly healthy it's going to be as well."

"Absolutely! Just think about it."

\- _A Week Later or So_ -

\- _4th of April, 1966_ -

Within a week after strong-willedly booking their tickets for the small city of Tennesse for their promisingly majestic honeymoon, consequently the married duo got early in the wee hours of the early April's morning with having a small family breakfast, taking sloppy showers and preparing the rest of their necessary luggage for their one-week honeymoon in Adams.

Even though the former devotional members of the clergy's flight were precisely booked for nine o'clock in the morning, anyway they were escorted by Madeleine, Cassandra and Andrea on the Hartford's airport.

The sheer, childlike agitation for the extraordinarily ecstatic, auspicious honeymoon scarcely vanished in the duo, factly, they were strongly looking forward for the bright beginning of the new April's week with the perpetually blossoming balminess of the typical early spring climate and its unceasingly flourishing nature prospect, painted with warm, radiantly abstract brushes. The balmy, beaming phenomenon of its performance of catharsis inescapably was the essential reason for a new beginning. For a fresh start. Not just for the general population, but also mostly for Judy and Timothy and completely overlooking the past without having any intentions to turn back and glimpse at the face of the empty barrens of the past' spikes of tribulations they've been through in the past weeks and months.

Their strong doubts to contemplate through the curtains or the face of the past that brought them nothing else than painful tribulations and sore lessons, brilliantly explaining their solutions in each hardship's interpretation.

The airport for their own luck wasn't quite crowded with galore of strangers in hurry to catch up either their flights for their dream destinations or on the contrary already arriving in Hartford after having either a business trip or their dynamic dream destinations' experience, rooming their conscience and the depth of their soul. Ocean of strangers, cloaking their complexions in medley of masks of happiness, anger, aloofness, sorrow or meekly dim exasperation, instantly readable across their outstanding, one of a kind facial attributes.

The authentically grand wall clock uneasily ticked, calculating momentarily every elapsing second from its current time. It was already quarter to eight. Uncommonly early, the nuclear family's very presences were obligated to populate the airport's building earlier than the usual, in order to check their luggages for any eventual hazardous items and paraphernalia.

In the interval, the horde of adults seated on one of the benches outside the building's interior, in order to pearly relish their final moments before saying farewell to one another for awhile and admirably treasure every discreetly petty detail behind its nature aesthetics, straightforwardly encircling them. While Jude was sitting alongside her husband and Madeleine as the six-month-old infant was scooped in his mother's protective, tenderly silken arms, Andrea and Cassandra traded their own seats on the other sides of their friends.

Notwithstanding the one-week honeymoon, the couple has granted their foster pet Stephen to Madeleine and Roman's care as the older brother of the Michiganian solemnly vowed to take a decent care of it during the former religious members of the church's absence. Last but not least, even though Frank's ginormous wish to behold his old friends shortly before catching up with their flight for Adams, Tennesse, unfortunately, his night shift had already drained the remaining quantity of energy, caged inside his muscles and cells to bestow himself a restless sequel with his daily life. The night shifts were sufficiently enervating for every one even a security guard of a parking lot, being in charge of inside his small sacredly convenient, stable shack. Not only his extra sleeping hours were dubiously satiable and stilling its stabilization of his daily habits, moreover his daily schedule's hectiness reckoned its nightmarish chaos after collecting a couple of hours fleet, promising slumber.

"So Adams, Tennesse is your dream destination for a honeymoon?" Meanwhile, the former prostitute's naturally rosy-coloured, cherub lip curled in the nimbleness of her enquiry, darting her pitch-black big, rotund gems to the married duo with a huge grin radiantly curving her mouth, exposing vibrantly her flawlessly ivory teeth.

"To be honest, yes!" The haphazardness of the other middle-aged blonde's strawberry-coloured, wet tongue deftness inevitably crafted the brief response after its willed clash of vowels and syllables, almost ebbing off in her feminine Adam's apple. In spite of the small population of Adams, the wed duo have emphatically decided to not hesitate even change their honeymoon's location, in fact, it's already organized and it's already too late to bring back the time. One of real motives the small city of Tennesse to be part of their romantic vacation for a straight week was judging its the quantity of people inhabiting and how miniature it appeared to be even resiliently calm and serene site. They were strongly looking forward for its nature atmosphere and everything else illustrating realistically its own esthetics in general even getting to know another undiscovered location for them. Miraculously Judy and Timothy weren't keen fans of the bigger cities or states where the population was utmost larger in its quantity and most of all, they couldn't find peace with themselves for awhile at least. It wasn't true that they didn't like the enormous sites. It was just the ambience, itself, especially where they could confront a huge crowd of people. "The less people in one place, less problems, Andrea!"

"I'm glad you managed to choose your own destination for the honeymoon where there aren't many people." It was high time for Andrea's daughter, Cassandra's passionately dexterous tongue to conjugate her individual utterance as her bottom plumpish lip quivered bewitchingly, lazily without managing to break her adequately maintained eye contact with the horde of inner circle and shooting a welcomingly benevolent glimpse at the young boy, whose big, roundish pools of abysmal honey brown gradually, intoxicatingly imbibed each inner circle member's face with its pure guiltlessness, flaming into his indiscernible, blown widened jet-black pupils.

"Isn't it just romantic to have a honeymoon in one of the most haunted cities of America?" The abruptness, arduously stubborn elaborating the Michiganian's rhetorical posed question was perkily escorted with a naturally healthy, utmostly candid snigger scrapping her throat, whilst manipulating her spidery marbled, bony fingers to tuckle a fistful of uneasily cheerful, rebellious aureate curls warmly behind her petite, vulnerable ear in a swift motion without breaking her eye contact with her friend and co-worker in the same time. "Having a meager population as if it's a ghost town?"

"At least, Adams is sonly established city! It's not just a ghost town, a potential city with its extraordinary nature," Delightfully molting into the delicately soothing, hedonistic touches of Madeleine, motioning its fingering of the slimly long, satin fingers through the vibrantly flossy golden locks, the former pious woman of the cloth manifested a healthily rusty, hoarsely girlish giggle, slipping from her mouth in a jiff. "Outstanding atmosphere and so forth. It doesn't need to be New York so that to bewitch me at all."

"Furthermore, it's undeniably fun to explore undiscovered, eerie places on our own!" The recent revelation, emanating from the former aspiring Monsignor's starkly pale-pinkish lips parted promptly delivered the answer the female trio was eagerly seeking for by judging their buddies' childlike inquisitiveness to discover the real motives why the former members of the clergy enamored dicey adventures in hauntedly godforsaken areas. Were they just parallel to the rebelliously headstrong adolescents and young adults whose aroused interest in the gruesomely godforsaken sparkled their great deal of enthusiasm or on the contrary their freshly childlike, buoyant spirituality corrupted their very souls with the bare, timeless adrenaline of imperiling their own lives just to pay visits to places that were forgotten by God?

Even though the majority of the couples' honeymoon destinations were in incredibly breathtaking sites where the romantic ambience welcomingly, balmily embraced them, the originality in the married couple's creativity to organize more modest romantic vacation for awhile illuminated them with the brightest brush, bearing a semblance of an artistically entertaining masterpiece with its unorthodox style masterizing their romantic journeys. They weren't like the other pairings.

"For example proposing your rare bird nowhere else than on the roof of a former psychiatric hospital?"

"That's fairly true, Maddie!" At the moment, the British aristocrat ushered his wet, berry-coloured tongue to greedily, thoughtfully lick his lips, lingering the potent accent of eyeing the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman's porcelain, unblemishedly glossy complexion with its mirth, adorning remarkably, uniquely her youthful facial attributes. "There's nothing wrong with changing its location of the proposal."

"As usually, the couples are proposing each other either in public or at home." The raspiness, accentuating ominously the former hooker's realistic suggestion for a common place where the proposals were a second nature for each individual's illustration.

"Be specific with what kind of locations do you suggest to take its place in public, mom!"

"I was thinking it could be at work, at the stores and the mall, of course, Cass!" The suddenness of the planted affectionately soft, heartwarming peck on Cassandra's well-carved, chubby cheek, the smoothness of Andrea's nude pink, featherly soft lips grazing the delicate, glossy facial skin beneath its adroit, creamy touch taunted fiercely Cassandra's heart to leap and race a couple of times, while honing her ears for automatically assimilating every version for a proposal, regardless how commonly encountered it was. Little did the young mother of two know the rabid temperature's potency, insanely heating pleasantly, gracefully the pit of her stomach and megawattly electrifying goosebumps spiking her creamy epidermis. "I remember so far when I was pregnant with you, Cass, just like the very first weeks of my first trimester," A heavy sigh measured sufficiently the older woman's intensions of extending her own monologue and refreshing graciously her brittle lungs, whilst her compact scale of audience were all ears in a jiffy. "Your dad proposed me on a very unusual place. It was shortly after paying a visit to the doctor and leaving the doctor's office after we acknowledged that we're about to welcome you as our family addition in less than a year."

"That's adorably crazy!" Diminishing the megawatt decibels of her sweet, blatant whimper, sailing out of the Michiganian's tongue tip clumsily, fortunately, it was solely audible for her and composing its weak, vulnerable ballad of her low hum under her breath. Her elvish, milky hand maneuvred to crook its series of smoothly affectionate strokes of the youngster's chestnut, flossy hair, landing her honey brown cabochons on his charmingly full, plump profile and platonically admiring his ethereal grace and inheriting his creators' authentically vibrant features.

"I think in Judy and Tim's case it was even less common, mom!" An optimistic, unceasing scintillation eerily highlighted the Vermontian's face, attaching her front ivory, still firm teeth to perch on her bottom cherub lip to nip at the delicately raw spot recurringly to stifle a surprised gasp at the top of her lungs.

"I'm not saying the proposal in the hospital's corridor was pretty common and cliché place, but I just spilled the drops of my tea!"

"I really like it!" The symphony of unison voices, collaborating in its beatific composition jingled angelic anthems into Andrea's ears, muting the humdrum medley of silver-tonguedly scrumptious birdsongs, tiresome strangers' chatters and the mild aggression of its howling soft spring breeze.

\- _Dream_ -

_A motionless body like the other bodies who have found either peace with themselves or collecting its sufficient rest after their chaotic daily journey, regardless the arduous deal of efforts to release themselves with an engagement minus._

_As soon as the former pious sister of the church came to her senses after lazily fashioning into balled fists her weathered, marbled hands to grapple the generous layer of stickily greasy, wet sand of its small, forsaken island somewhere situated in the world's ocean, her eyelids momentarily, lazily wrenched broadly opened at the dim light vista, bestowing her with the absolute reality of her desolation on its land. Plenty of wild, artistically monumental palm trees and kinky, untamedly thick bushes contagiously depicted her current location._

_When the middle-aged lady's pair of hazelish-brown gems surveyed in a scrutiny in the stark corner of her eye the recent, hair-risingly unfamiliar area for her, the abruptness of electrifying goosebumps spiked her unblemishedly sheer alabaster epidermis._

_"W-Where am I?" One of her top inquiries skeptically provoked her lower cherub, roseate lip to quiver haphazardly and sensing its exoctically tropical climate roaring its natural warmness colliding ferociously into her bare petite-frame. Unfortunately, even a mirror wasn't hanging out loosely or at least sloppily occupying with its wee scale the desolated tropical island in the nocturnal episode's thick ebony mantle, bountifully obscuring each source of light and illumination to magnificently be tracked down or share generously its modicum of beaming, saturating light with the darkness. "W-What's this place?" In the meanwhile, a timid glance, landing on her sheerly naked figure with its insatiable slender curves constructed her one of a kind anatomy under her registered eerie flat line, indicating her grotesque emotionlessness readily decorating her complexion._

_When her questions haven't fathomed its emphatic rationality and logic yet, the former pious nun didn't give up at all. Her initial hope was to research cautiously the island, in spite of the nudity couldn't be problematic for her as well._

_The bashfully girlish whisper of incessant feminine footsteps ghosting aloofly the drenched, luster carpet of sand, tickling playfully, delicately her feet and bony ankles, the suddenness of foreign, inhumanely undescribable noise pitched the disturbing, cold-hearted doldrum that once peacefully settled on the lonely piece of land. It resembled or at least strucking at first with its morbid blood-curdling timbres, composing its elegiac ode of its series of blatant whimpers, escaping the tortured victim of severe pain and agony, Anyway the victim was unknown, nevertheless, his voice was readily masculine and purely husky._

_"Who are you?" Once the very presence of the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer wasn't the only one ghosting spectacularly authentic on the foreign piece of tropical land, subsequently she manipulated her leg muscles to dash to one of the wild, chubby bushes where the soundtrack of the agony emanated and played out like a broken record inside a cryptically haunted with infamous backstory room._

_Acknowledging the presence of two other uninvited guests on the tropical island, Judy shyly obscured herself from the view of the other woman, skinning the corpse of the former priest with her own femininely weathered, longly slim fingers and ferociously sharp, firm teeth, baptized with rich layer of dark, freshly shed gore. Solely the nocturnal darkness camoflauged her from head to toes, although its vivid nuances of the refreshing, lukewarm blood, glimmering brightly with the most silken hue of red. A medley of scarlet, crimson and wine red, amalgamated into the nightmarishly gory landscape._

_Even though the older lady's persistent attempts to not taunt with modicum of farther noise and any meaningfully idle motion the younger, unknown woman whose recent victim was the cannibalized ominously, unholy Timothy, all of a sudden the same woman's long mop of greasily unhealthy, perky chestnut tresses waltzed and bounced when the cannibal shifted her attention to her forthcoming victim after stealthily dedicating her trust to her own instincts to confront Jude. Meantime, demon horns, escorted comfortingly by a long, jubilant demon tail pricked balefully the cannibal, ushering her marvelously christened in gore mouth to twist into a complacent, vile grin, eyeing jadedly, hungrily glassy her impending prey who stifled the series of blatantly painful coes after witnessing the eldritch vista._

_"No way!" Hitching awkwardly her breathing, the Bostonian's heart raced timelessly even elaborating sluggishly the heart pulsations, gearing their throbs into her flimsy chest._

\- _End of Dream_ -

\- _Back to Reality_ -

\- _A Couple of Hours Later or So_ -

"Arghhh!" As soon as the former sleazy nightclub singer came to her senses after her brief catnap during her lacking concentration on stilling her awaked condition during the reassuringly elegant massage on her back, the same masculinely strong, deft hands managed to knead slowly but surely, gracefully each inch of symmetric flesh, contacting gently beneath his digits and fingertips with each gracefully fashionable motion and manipulation of his fingers. "Stay away from me, ya freaking cannibal!"

"Shh, shh, shh, rare bird! You're in safe hands and you had just a bad dream." Maneuvering his naturally nude pink, plumpish lips to lull the soothingly tuneful shush to tingle its brightly contrasting tune into the former nun's flexible ears, suddenly he leaned down to plant a tender, steamy peck on her spine, admiring her ethereal grace, boldly exposed in its own nudity.

The truth eventually was interpreted in the relentless circumstances of the wed duo being already in Adams, Tennessee for a handful of hours and booking their own room in one of the nigh hotels which was about to shut down within a month, due to the lack of customers monthly and its nefarious backstory back in its very first years of its foundation. Further, Edward was already swaddled warmly and deeply drifted off asleep in his own basket, while the British compatriot originally seated on the edge of the king-sized bed with its promisingly exquisite scarlet silky blanket embellishing the mattress.

"Am I really?"

"Yes, you're! There's no reason to be afraid of something that's far cry from real."

"T-That cannibal," Series of gentlemanly exquisite, adroit kneads of Judy's slim spine stung its retrospective pause of hers during her monologue's beginning, biting reluctantly her tongue and melting beneath her husband's loving, protective touch. "Was a woman and skinned on her yar corpse. It was absolutely disgusting."

"Everything is okay, Jude! There aren't any cannibals anymore or they're just one in ten thousand people at least." Crafting its soothingly romantic, tuneful coe after bending down his torso as his lips gingerly, welcomingly lubricated with its own lethal, subtlely bewitching touch the older lady's earlobe. "Or at least, if there's one cannibal who is about to eat you, I swear to God, I'd teach him a decent lesson to not mess with anyone of us. Neither me, nor you, my rare bird."

Author's Note: I'd like to apologize so much for the delaying updates, nevertheless, sometimes an author's block is killing me along with my hectic daily life.

Who do you think might be the father of Martha's unborn child? Is it possible Jude and Timothy to have more than one child? Do you strongly believe they're into desolated, hazardous places for showing their romance?

And of course, don't forget to comment your favorite moment! I would kindly appreciate it! Last but not least, I hope you liked and enjoyed the chapter! :))


	29. House of Cards

Previously on Wings of Light:

_"You're rather the one who makes me the happiest man ever living in this world! Thank you for everything and for gracing not only ourselves with one more addition to that splendid family, but also our lovely cherub angel to have a beautiful little sister or an adorable little brother of his!"_

_"I was pretty scared I may be through the perimenopause right away instead of getting pregnant. I was being through the first stages of that perimenopause."_

_"Not only there are higher chances of your future child to develop more health issues, moreover let's not forget it will be smaller and it will have mainly problems with the breathing, brain, heart and so forth."_

_"I'm going to keep that baby inside me unless our lives are extremely endangered when it comes up to my health condition. I don't care if I'm going to give a birth to a tiny piece of meat or an average one, anything to deprive my very second addition to this family I've always craved to have will be under no circumstances."_

_"So Adams, Tennesse is your dream destination for a honeymoon?"_

_"To be honest, yes! The less people in one place, less problems, Andrea!"_

_"W-Where am I? __W-What's this place?" _

_"Who are you?" __  
_

_"Am I really?"_

_"Yes, you're! There's no reason to be afraid of something that's far cry from real."_

While the female trio populated each inch of the compact flowerstore in the Hartford's slums, the early April's relentlessly radiantly charming, happy sun spellbinded its own celestially aureate fitler to shower gradually the shut windows' indisputably flimsy glasses, beautifully golden curtain, pale enough, veiled the exposed fleshes of Madeleine, Andrea and Cassandra to its leaked detection.

Lately the Hartford's common climate vibrantly contrasted to the past weeks' weather, due to its real coordinates of the small city of Vermont. Moreover, the days were sunnier when the wee hints of spring casted its own sunrise almost a month ago with the unceasing catharasis of the nature and melting the luxuriously alabaster, fragile snowy carpet and its ornates that once magnificently mesmerized the majority of the audience, allowing themselves to glance through their windows with their childlike inquisitive cabochons or on the contrary coping up with their comfort zone to balefully take the risk to encounter the true face of the nature. The winter nature. The wintery's magnificently authentic prospect as medley of frosty climate, aggressively howling winds, the bountiful beehive of alabasterly waltz, ticklishly wee snowflakes. To eavesdropping the rich soundtrack of the seventh heaven children and adolescents' hysterically timeless screams and laughters, pitching the wintery prosect and muting ruthlessly the aggressive wind's howling.

Howsoever, once the snowy and icy carpets ceased to batter outside and bloodthirstily adorning every inch of the small city of Vermont's vista, the seasonal life sunset promptly with its own balmily sunny days. The genuine notion of seasonal catharsis after the chaotically hazardous, nevertheless, aesthetically eye-catching winter.

Even though the female trio genuinely missed the former members of the church along with their little ray of sunshine, it never ceased to astonishingly embolden them to carry on with their genuinely arduous business in the flowerstore. Notwithstanding the leisurely discouragement of motivation to continue their strong-willed work with vending galore of plants and flowers for certain amount of money and trade with the clients a presentably helpful piece of advice, it wasn't a detrimentally unspeakable phenomenon that occurred way too often. It was pretty seldom and whenever it ceased to slumber peacefully, subsequently the aftermaths were inhumanely unforgivable, unavoidable. Was the true incarnation of discouragement tried its best to play its own cards right? Was the true notion of house of cards not only for their humor and very beings, but also their crucially lucrative business?

Fortunately, Andrea and Judy were the only ladies that were not only much older than Madeleine and Andrea's daughter Cassandra, further possessing galore experience in the life and in general. They were essential wings of the business especially Judy whose insanely creative concept to earn her own money and perpetually separate the earned money in its own budget via its vended products even her daughter-figure backed her up, besides individually earn her own cash for the diligent, headstrongly immense hardwork implied in spending partly of her day with the Bostonian in a flowerstore, conversating ocean of unknown customers who either struggle to take care of their own plants and flowers or on the contrary having the brilliantly great wish to purchase their own one of a kind product, promisingly oathing to take a good care of it along with bonus instructions shortly before fleeing the flowerstore.

"_Cara Mia why must we say goodbye?__ Each time we part my heart wants to die! Darling hear my prayer! Cara Mia fair!_" Whilst the proper functioning of the radio elaborated headstrongly after being plugged in the plug for a couple of hours, Cara Mia by Jay and the Americans was recently playing as the silver-tonguedly melodious undertone of the lead vocalist chanted slowly but surely the song's lyrics. The lyrics spoke its emotions, while pairing with the meaningfully tuneful, delicately slow instrumental for additional ambience to the song.

"We've to guess who the biggest bookworm is there!" In the meanwhile, the Michiniganian's femininely dainty, alabaster fingers danced apt to tandem around the book about the flowers she and Jude owned in the site, itself, her cinnamon brown jewels manifested to survey in a scrutiny each word, each poured with hard-work and arduous creativity paragraph, jet-black ink's glimmer past her vision at every perused word and sentence. A vibrantly glowing, vague smile welcomingly flashed upon the Michiganian's face, almost pretending to be oblivious to the middle-aged lady's mischievous jeer, parting upon her naturally nude pink, cherub lips. During Madeleine's distraction with the book about the flowers, Andrea's vibrantly delicate, mildly, pleasantly tanned fingers crooked around the mug of freshly brewed hot chocolate, flushing her nostrils to inhale with its draining, invincible power the acutely gracious fragrance of freshly brewed hot chocolate, squinting up her jet-black jewels at her friend, absurd skepticism twisting grotesquely her facial attributes, whereas her daughter Cassandra jotted down studiously on a separate sheet of paper of the miniature, remarkably rare notebook the recent budget, manipulating her conservatively mauve-painted lips to curve into a soft O at the series of crafted indiscernible, diligently hardworking mumbles. She was having slightly tough time calculating the actual budget of the flowerstore and its total sum of cash they've earned per a customer for an hour at least, depending on the frequency of their visits. Moreover, the juvenile mother of two used to be an efficiently tireless, passionately enthusiastic student during her school years especially high school. Despite the tremendously bewildering, dynamic dilemmas and dramas which she's being through her childhood and adolescence, it didn't prevent her from darting her utter focus on her studies and earning good marks except in Math, where once she was on the verge to fail in tenth grade.

Even though Andrea wasn't a keen enthusiast of spending her leisure time to read books or anything associated with news on blank, nevertheless, it didn't compensate her younger years when her humongous interest in the books fiercely oozed of her and generously participated in her daily hectic schedule. Unlike the former prostitute, the juvenile blonde's searing interest to peruse anything associated with Literature especially her favorite genres which were mystery, thriller, informative and historical, maintained the timeless passion, engulfed into the compact, divinely magical world of the Literature and their authors' memorable masterpieces.

"Five by fifteen," The teasingly vehement pulsations, hammering frequently into the other young woman's bony ribcage due to the immense pressure she's being engulfed narrow-mindedly to calculate the total budget for today from the very first minute the trio has stepped inside the store to vend plants and flowers up to the recent unnervingly ticking second, the inescapable quivering motion of her fingers clumsily grasped the fountain pen after maneuvering the tip to scrub sufficient ink to interprete the recent compute, despite the rich soundtrack of her company, the radio's recently playing song and the luxuriously elating, authentic birdsongs, comfortingly ghosting the afternoon atmosphere. "Seventy-five! Three by ten!" Clash of vowels and syllables sluggishly combating one another for sheer domination, shamelessly crafted the shy, precise final calculation of the first part of Cassandra's current task. Her dark big, roundish embers fiery, stubbornly imbibed each ounce of the blank with the numbers exquisitely paged up and sorted.

"Maddie, sweetheart," A second, hopeful attempt to draw the young lady's attention in no time, meantime, the Wisconscian registered to lift up her mug to gently sip of her hot brown liquid as it slightly, painfully scalded her wet, strawberry-coloured tongue, stilling her darted pitch-black bijous at the juvenile blonde and the benevolently sympathetic smile, twisted across her facial attributes. Her solely free petite, tanned hand managed to nudge gingerly her satin, cotton rosewood-hoodie-clad sleeve on reflex without having any malicious intentions of granting her unpredictable chills. "Can you hear me?" The pleasant northern lilt of the former prostitute excessively spotlighted her inquiery, begging for an immediate response once it was genuinely wise, rationally reflected.

"Urm, what," Pinching broadly widened her hazelish-brown bijous, narrowed naively virginal, confused up at the middle-aged lady's attributes, encountering her vibrant gaze that maternally warmed the pit of her stomach and graced her with ethereally celestial comfort even though it was slightly incomparable to the former sister of the church's, whose gaze was far cry from coldheartedly stern, sadistic, thirsting eagerly to gawk glassily jaded at the wretched souls' aftermaths of their torture which she perfomed. The haphazardness of its deft motion of the elasticity of the grin, curving into a wide O and leaking the flawlessly ivory, firm teeth of Madeleine, the caught-off-guard humor highly affected the strong accent of her features and darkening her naturally ghostly pale facial skin in bright, healthy cherry. "I'm dearly sorry, Andrea! I didn't hear you as well. I was just reading about the orchids." A heavy sigh refreshingly, dexterously measured Madeleine's initial apprehension, opting to calm her nerves, continuously reproducing the low hum under her breath.

"It's alright, Maddie! I was just teasing that we've to guess who's the biggest bookworm there!"

"Oh! It's true I'm actually always having a finger in the pie when it comes up to books."

"That's fashionably nice to hear from a young person like you!" Lingering her only free hand's dexterously spidery marbled fingers, bracing gingerly the other lady's elbow, an enthusiastically casual nod reckoned her younger colleague, subsequently conjugating a humdrum, low hum. What it gravely astounded the former hooker was her friend and colleague in the same time's humongous interest was nothing else than in the books and sparing partly her remaining leisure daily to peruse cautiously several pages, marking its perpetual tiny progress with the reading process. "I used to be seriously to be on fire about books when I was much younger. Approximately your age!"

"_I'll be your love till the end of time__! __Cara Mia mine__! __Cara Mia mine__! __Cara Mia mine__! __Cara Mia mine__!_"

"Aw, really? That's incredibly sweet, Andrea!" Manipulating the shrug of her femininely dainty shoulder blades, the young blonde managed to amorously tilt her head, thereafter muffling with her fashioned into balled fist hand a healthily guttural, demurely girlish giggle hardly inching the green tea-stained breath, fanning featherly-soft her alabaster flesh. "Go ahead!"

"I used to be seriously a sucker for books when I was your and Cass age! My favorite genres are romance, criminal and mystery as well!" In the interval, the Michiniganian couldn't help but usher her wet, strawberry-coloured tongue to twirl and whirl out of her mouth and ardently, greedily moisten her tea-stained lips, consequently extraordinarily keeping their glossiness and hydration, casting their weakly translucent, feeble glint. "But once I and Gus split up, I quit reading books regularly or rather I scarcely have opened a single page once in a half a year at least."

"I'm really sorry to hear that you have being through galore of pressure and that ceased your enthusiasm to pursue your passions!" Suddenly Madeleine warily shut the rigid pages of the book about the flowers and dumping it plainly on the top of the hardwood bureau. A mild, unknowledgably inexorable heartbreak clumsily tore off her flimsy heart on thousand of glassily frail fragments, putting herself in the former hooker's shoes and depicting mindly the explicit images and flashbacks of experiencing a split up with nobody else than the person she divinely loved, respected even gifted her myriad of trust. Blurring the thousand patterns of radiant vibrancy, permeated across her mouth, a woeful texture rigidly, patchily hazed any wee hint of elation. Even though Madeleine and Andrea became friends and acquaintances for very first time in the past days especially a week ago or so, it truly touched her small segment of the older lady's backstory, associated with dynamic roller coaster and medley of painfully sore tribulations, dumping their own luster scars encumbering her hurricane of thoughts.

"It's okay, darling! I'm stronger," All of a sudden, the front door of the flowerstore swung straightforwardly, fluently widely opened at the prospect of the impending visitor, occupying with his very presence and catching off guard the young mother who shifted her utmost attention to Sebastian for a split second, biting incidentally her tongue and thus forging a reluctant gasp, generous layer of blush mapping her porcelain, youthful complexion. "Than ever!" The pure frustration, composing its own symphony in the grunts, sailing out of the talkative pairing's tongues, they narrowed primly intrigued at the current visitor, whereas his masculinely ordinary, sufficiently heavy footsteps melodically whispered against the floor, encouraging the sheer distraction of the horde of ladies to transfix their twains of minerals at the large-framed gentleman, shoving uneasily his colossal, monstrously weathered hands into his charcoal gray cashmere slacks' profound pockets.

"Good day, sir! What we may help with?" Series of irresistibly childlike, gullible stutters prominently wrenched the other young woman as her heart dramatically surrealistically raced and oblivious to the sudden paroxysm, swaddling icily her heart's glassy, fragile fragments.

Hostile trustlessness potently, megawattly linked its connection with remarkably somber highlight of Andrea and Madeleine's facial features once their expressively dark minerals drained every functioning ounce of Sebastian's large frame, in order to assimilate unceasingly his body language and arcane mannerism, besides realizing it's the nefarious serial killer's older brother paying a visit to their flowerstore.

Meantime, a ferociously obvious, eerie flat line crinkled its permeation past the middle-aged gentleman's parchment face, whereas the luxuriously inward soundtrack of hostile growls rolled out of the both ladies' mouths sloppily, ruthlessly, scarcely gracing their patience's divine, sacred dominance that was dethroned by its ominuous impulse and angrily fiery adrenaline, pumping into their veins and savage rage pulsating into their petite frames. No matter if it was Cayden or anybody from his family, the both blondes were wildly prepared to confront them and persistently, notoriously grant the sequel of the heated debate if it's actually foreshadowed lastly. They didn't have any intentions of serving either Martha, Sebastian or Cayden's kindness, factly, they're appallingly hazardous and imperiling not only their lives, but also their their reputation somehow if their starkly endless benevolence was undeservedly served to one of the most notorious family names of Hartford, Vermont.

Even if it's the only daughter or the only sibling which the Italian compatriot possesses and pearly treasures and loves them with each ounce of his heart, Andrea and Madeleine instantly manifested their hostility and unmasking their sympathy and disguising into their real themselves with their true identities when encountering a dangerous ordeal, blocking their path to ultimate peace and felicity or at least authentically majestic harmony. They could barely see the difference between any family member of the Grays. It would cost them sufficient time to fathom their weaknesses and strengths that weren't particularly linking mutually, unqieuly the infamous trio.

"I've a strongly bad feeling about this." Leaning down to play a silent phone game with swapping mutual whispers rooming their flexible ears, the older woman raised an arch of her elegantly thin eyebrow, examining in a scrutiny the leeriness, welling in the fountain of the Italian compatriot's older brother from head to toes, utmost accentuating the bleakly diabolical shadow, spellbinding additionally, critically his suspiciousness. Hot chocolate-stained breath playfully, devilishly teased the Michiganian's mellow, marbled earlobe. "Keep your wits about you and him!"

"Of course, ma'am! Your command is also my command!" Lowering rapidly the decibels of her transmuted mumble, in order to not get herself and the Norwegian compatriot into chaotically unimaginable trouble, invicinbly mudding their very consciences, meanwhile, her lip curled into a fleet balefully prim, rabidly perky grin.

"_Cara Mia why must we say goodbye?__Each time we part my heart wants to die__! __Darling hear my prayer__! __Cara Mia fair__! __I'll be your love till the end of time__! __Cara Mia mine__!_"

"I would like to buy a boquet of gardenias!" The intentions of the childless middle-aged gentleman were to purchase a boquet of gardenias for his niece, factly, to presentably mark her sonly discovered pregnancy with a gentlemanly gracious, altruistic present to demonstrate his platonic respect and love for her. Notwithstanding the circumstances, Martha's favorite flowers were actually gardenias, regardless their colour or hue.

"Okay, Mister!" The hoarseness in the diabolically wicked, subtly quiet chuckle, clicking the roof of the older man's mouth didn't vanish, fortunately, solely discernible for him. At the moment, the young lady who was the only vendor that demonstrated genuine hospitability towards the notorious serial killer's sibling and having no intentions of bringing herself crudely bland trouble, foreshadowing the sequence of its blandly barren heated discussions by judging his status and reputation. Cassandra's bright contrast compared to Madeleine and Andrea's policies when it comes up to the customers' status whether its kindness to be truly served to them even if they were donned up in the somberly ill-famed costume of their reputation and status exposed the true natures of the women. In the young mother of two's case when it was joint a word about the clients and their status in general, she's always demonstrated the incarnation of nirvanic benevolence until they didn't disrespect or belittled her in every single way.

During the boquet's construction process of gathering a fistful of single flowers to adorn fantastically the recently ordered product from Sebastian and maneuvering her lower body muscles to hunker up to the plainly velvet vase of lavish, extraordinary gardenias after lifting up her rear from her own seat to altruistically aid the visitor until he managed to stomp crudely cold the light-brunnette's loin, afterwards lingering the his shoed toes onto her spine, shooting a balefully antagonizing grimace at the duo who immediately participated in the clash.

"Noo! That's not part," Hiccups begged to pump its oxygen, coursing through the light-brunette's brittle lungs, thudding violently onto the carpeted flooring, bleating luxurious dose of blatantly sore, toilsome whimpers, desperately struggling to breathe and conjugate modicum of rational utterance. The severe stomp onto her loin multiplied rapidly the breathless groans and desperate whimpers, fastening her oral caverns, while the Wiconsian and the younger lady's failed attempts to grapple to apt to brace his arms to halt the forthcomingly disastrous damage.

"You sluts will pay," A venomously antagonizing hiss sailed out of the older gentleman's tongue, hunkering down when his parchment, light-heavy wrinkled complexion meagerly inched with his recent prey, fashioning his colossal, unamusingly chilly hands into balled fists, throughout spearing his balefully scintillating glare that may lethally gouged somebody's eyes off with a mere glare. Unyielding adrenaline dawdled its pulsation into his tall frame, shooting suspicious glance at the other ladies who attempted to halt him at any cost. "Especially you! I'm deeply ashamed of you who are befriending with liars just to ruin anybody!" All of a sudden, the accountant's registered to grapple barbarously unseen, crudely Cassandra's lion mane of velvet old Hollywood cinnamon tresses.

"You need a professional help!" When the female duo diligently, loyaly coupled platonically to stop the intruder, thus the former prostitute managed to surreptitiously to snatch violently fiendish his short mop of dark strands and perpetually pulling him by his short mop unlike the Michiganian charging her shoed foot to heinously kick him into the groins and thereafter weaken the accountant as the trio accomplishes bonus time during the afflictive, apocalyptic physical and mental agony of Sebastian, struggling to stifle the series of restlessly harrowing groans and grunts.

"Holy shit!" As soon as the Michiganian managed to kick in the groins the middle-aged gentleman, thereafter his round, muscular knees ushered to crump the carpeted floor, nipping at the raw spot of his lower baby-pinkish, chapped lip to haul his invicinbility without bleating blatantly its whimpers of the defeat. Stilling her barbaric grip on his neatly trimmed haircut, the Wisconsian bleated series of fiendishly smug gasps as her daughter was finally released from the vicious cycle and straightening her posture sluggishly due to the back pains, bittersweetly agonizing her muscles and bones to function properly.

"Do you want more my feet to suck your tiny balls and capsicum which may never," Inclining questionably a thin, elegant eyebrow, the juvenile blonde greedily, mischievously cocksure licked her plumpish lips at the second kick of Sebastian's crotch after charging it with her entire physical strength to inflict its severe sadism after erupting her ethereal adrenaline, pumping into her veins due to the accountant's unfriendly presence. "Impregnate any other woman or probably be sucked by your brother?" The haphzardness of the jeering, wry retaliation of the juvenile flowerstore saleswoman taunting her friends' hysterically unhealthy, jubilant guffaws piercing Sebastian's eardrums, meanwhile, he collapsed on the carpeted flooring bleakly hopeless while Andrea and Madeleine ventured to check on the young mother with protracting their benevolently satin, headstrong hands, in case to straighten her posture quicker as much as possible rather than struggling on her own. "Cass, is everything okay?"

"I guess I'm fine!" Humbly, docilely bobbing her head in strong agreement to affirm the younger lady's words, afterwards the Vermontian maneuvred her both elvish, silken hands to snatch the both offers and aid her to be on her feet up in no time.

"I was deadly worried for you, my sweetie!" At the moment, the former prostitute pressed a gentle, affectionately silky peck on top of her creation's temple on reflex, encouragingly squashing their jointed grip. "I'm glad this intruder didn't make you to kick off the bucket, because I'll eat my hat!"

"_Cara Mia mine__! __Cara Mia mine__! __Cara Mia mine__! __Oh oh oh oh oh__! __Oh oh oh oh oh__! __Each time we part my heart wants to die__!_"

"I'm glad you're fine, but it's high time to get rid off the garbage there!" Squeezing gingerly, amiably the cinnamon-haired woman's petite, surprising warm hand, thus Madeleine manipulated her mouth to pepper her cheeks with dose of affectionately platonic, meaningfully comforting kisses, grazing sweet-temperedly her unblemishedly youthful, refreshingly luster facial skin. "C'mon, girls! Let's free our La Vie En Rose flowerstore!"

When the female trio marched up to the partly conscious large-frame intruder, consequently Andrea and Cassandra grappled the accountant by his both bulkily strong, muscly arms to haul him to drag him awkwardly to the door, whereas Madeleine open the door and within a couple of seconds, she kicked him in the back of his skull as her friends dumped hopelessly, shamelessly the infamous serial killer's older sibling to rot on the cemented ground, lukewarmly, contagiously spreading its own scourge of chilliness extensively from head to toes and the single click of locked door tingled its alarming tones into his ears.

Completely hopeless. Completely helpless. Completely desolated. The entire strength and stamina which the feminine trio managed to drain on their own with their apocalyptically meaningful, nimble fighting skills masterized momentarily their recent experience to confront unfriendly visitors in their flowerstore even when the pious former members of the clergy weren't at home.

Little did the accountant know what awaited him as impending adventures, regardless within a few minutes solely or otherwise within a couple of days what a blowminding ruckus would alter his life.

Once Cassandra got back to calculate the today's budget of the site and Andrea curiously retrieved the thick book about the flowers to studiously peruse each page that aroused her abrupt, utmost interest, the Michiganian decided to phone the nearby psychiatric hospital's manager to lock up Cayden's older brother as her nubilely dexterous fingers manifested to reach for the retro ebony phone and subsequently hoist the earpiece to one of her free hands. In the interval, her only free hand's delicate fingers worked on dialing the psychiatrist hospital's main phone number, in order to obscure the entire freedom of the Italian compatriot.

Within less than a half a minute of bare anticipation and composed soundtrack of pip, hammering into the juvenile blonde's eardrums and a sharp exhale measuring her actual, remaining patience, afterward the phone call synced to its fleet existence.

"You are talking with Vermont State Hospital's director Doctor Benson!" A weak motion of tremble waltzed hypodermically the Michiganian's fingers at the raspy, masculine voice sharpening his austerely welcoming, calm utterance, whereas the former prostitute's spidery dimly tanned, exquisitely creamy fingers crooked around her plain oyster-white mug of chocolate brown liquid, sipping of it as her jet-black optics glowingly, promisingly fleet impaled at her for a split second on reflex with a primly smug, wicked smirk embellishing her face. Despite the doubtless huge distance of the both locations, associated with Vermont State Hospital's real residence somewhere in Vermont, the coordinates gauged the monstrous distance of Hartford and Watersbury and that was one of the nigh mental institutions where Madeleine would grant her modicum of trust to strip off Sebastian from his entire, celestially sacred freedom of scouring the small city. Notwithstanding her fierce hostility with Sebastian, yet she was clearly oblivious to the Gray brothers' relationship apocalyptic nemesis, foreshadowed as sequence due to the unspeakable secret which Martha and her uncle surreptitiously solely knew. "What we may help with, ma'am?"

"There's clearly insane intruder outside La Vie En Rose's flowerstore, located in Hartford's slums, west of bar Felicity! He's extremely dangerous and dubious man and the brother of the actual infamous serial killer Cayden Gray." A bitterly remorseless lump seethed the Michiganian's feminine Adam's apple, begging for an immediate answer after darting her cinnamon brown optics at the Wisconsian for approval in swift motion, thereafter landing them on the door and the unconscious large-frame.

"Accepted, ma'am! The transport will be accomplished within a handful of hours maximum as guaranteed!"

\- _A Few Hours Later or So_ -

When the daylight episode slowly bled into dim darkness, perfoming phenomenally its wee hints of the imminent inescapable nocturnal sequel of the day, the couple had beyond serene walk nearby the hotel with their infant and within an hour they got back inside the low-funded facility.

In spite of it's been less than a day within Jude and Timothy's arrival in the sonly-godforsaken facility, what it mesmerized them was the gloomily fashionable, refined Victorian style furnitures adorning remarkably each inch of their population even the food and drinks they've ordered so far weren't pure disappointment at all. Along with the other factors that struck them at first as tourists was also the rooms were flabbergastingly, gruesomely oozing of neat cleanness, kindheartedly ghosting every inch of the furnitures, walls and floor.

Notwithstanding the first impressions of the former members of the church about the hotel they might appear to be the final visitors before its permanent shut down, it luxuriously saddened Jude and Timothy due to the morbidly dark backstory of the facility, the quantity of visitors either daily or weekly wasn't parallel to the adequate, in order to earn a promisingly inviting budget its owners and increase the higher chances of the hotel's life to function way longer than the expected. Even though the opulence of tribulations they've being through, they're still keen fans of insanely spooky sites that gifted them with memorably unavoidable memories to ponder deeply into them when their physique inexorable equips with heavier wrinkles and weakens their muscles and their glossy, ominously potent elasticity, but the vividness of the explicitly memorable memories never leave them.

The memories, tracking down their immobility of functioning once they brightly illuminate their cells to reproduce and play out the explicit images of what they've recalled so far, they were the scars of the light and darkness. Regardless how nostalgic or detrimentally embarrassing the memories were, they refreshed somehow every consciousness.

Little did the British compatriot and his wife know about the gloomy backstory of the hotel and the real symptoms why it screamed loudly not only for bigger budget, but also for more customers to afford for one night their temporal visits inside the partly dead walls of the four-story building. Their lethally childlike inquisitiveness to discover each discreet secret, building its construction of cryptical façade of secrets under the form of house of cards once it leaks the pitiless enigma behind the real factor that repulses almost every tourist or on the contrary Tennnessian citizen even scarcely having the humongous courage to step inside a facility with blood-curdling backstory even if it's situated shortly after Adams' establishment.

During the Howards stay in hotel Underwood, there were a couple of clients who were staying inside the building for a day at least after their courage plucked them up to escape their comfort zone. The actual incarnation of hedonistic danger. The sanctum of the darkness. The sanctum of the inexperienced. The sanctum of the patchy hollow.

When the wee hours of the evening arrived sooner than later, the married pairing were getting ready for the dinner they're about to share downstairs and subsequently phone Madeleine and Roman to receive frequent updates not only about the flowerstore and Stephen, moreover about their conditions in general.

As the preparation advanced slowly but surely discreet in the booked room, the British compatriot was ready within a couple of minutes after taking a quick, lukewarm shower and donning up smartly himself in a refined charcoal black costume, coupled with pitch-black tie and formally exquisite oxfords, besides combing his chestnut hair. Unlike the former pious sister of the church who was in the middle of her preparation, she was seating on the edge of the king-sized bed with a silver pocket mirror, grasped tightly in one of her elvish, gloved hands, whereas her other hand registered to apply Ravish Me Red lipstick, contacting her lusciously plump lips and ebony mascara to spotlight boldly, cocksurely her long, thickly dark addition to the Bostonian's outfit was added a formal, artistically majestic cocktail dress with one shoulder stably linking its long sleeve to swaddle conveniently one of her satin, lean arms as its navy blue dress's hem flared slightly above her round, lovely knees, paired tastily with thin, classy black stockings and stunning pair of navy blue stilettos, shoing securely her petite feet. Last but not least, sapphire jewelry such as earrings and choker's very pendant embellished her presentable appearance. Meanwhile, her lion mane of flossy old Hollywood gilt curls wonderfully, joyously curtained her pale façade.

"Dada!" Whilst the mascara's tube and brush swaddled cozily into the satin gloved hand of the former woman of the cloth to profusely spotlight her thickly dark, attractively long eyelashes with the prominent make-up addition, the young boy bleated a blatant honeyed address to his father, squinting up his huge, rotund caramel brown minerals at Timothy as Edward Ralph was affectionately, protectively scooped into his embrace.

"You wanted to say that your father looks nice?" Suddenly the British aristocrat registered to lean down as his nose tip nuzzled into a platonically doting Eskimo kiss the linking noses of the both males in the Howards. Skin to skin platonically brushing smoothly and appropriately expressing their paternal love in the form of a father-son relationship.

"Ya! Dada!"

"I'm truly pleased, my love!" Shortly after syncing the nose waltz in a moltingly promising, emboldening Eskimo kiss for a quarter a minute, thus the British aristocrat pressed a tender, dainty peck on his baby son's adorably button nose, conjugating a rationally healthy, indisputably mirthful giggle dripping from his nude pink lips. "Mommy is actually the beauty here and you're also doubtlessly beautiful, little sunshine!" Throughout on reflex, another peck pinched broadly widened the young boy's pair of honey brown embers, passionately alight by his father's kindhearted compliment along with another peck pleasantly compresing her well-carved, chubby cheek and a couple of fingers gingerly, presentably managed to stroke a fistful scale of dark strands. Sweltering heat scrabbled like fatalistically subtle rattlesnake in the pits of Edward Ralph and Judy's stomachs with its zapping process.

"Well, I used to be once a true bombshell!" After applying strong-willedly sufficient quantity of its mascara to contact the elegantly thin tissues, the middle-aged lady maneuvred to avert her gaze from the pocket mirror's manipulated reflection and squint up at her husband and their little ray of sunshine for approval, furrowing her thin, dark eyebrows. "Now I'm just the butt of a joke, because the past can't be brought along with the faded beauty I once possessed," Crossing one of her drop-dead gorgeously slender, appealingly nimble legs with its inner thigh weakly bedaubed her lap.

"Are you watching even what are you saying, rare bird?" In the meanwhile, the British compatriot ushered his securely muscly, conveniently warm arms to bounce the six-month-old infant, in order to bestow him with myriad of unconditional love and inexorable comfort, darting his smoky quartz gemstones at the older woman, subsequently transmuting its mere look into an enamored, superb ogle.

"I do, for sure!" A half-heartedly cold-blooded, sarcastic darkened Jude's brief ballad of joy with its silver-tongued tunes, throughout a rusty heavy sigh fastened her brittle lungs. "Why I've to keep such an attention to my mouth, Monsignor?" A bloody red-painted lip curled nimbly at the posed rhetorical question, accenting the razor-edged irony not only in the formal address to the former aspiring Monsignor, but also the rich flower of vibes, overflowing the undertones.

"How would you like to embrace the fact that you're still my drop-dead gorgeous rare bird, no matter if you're thirty years old or even forty-six?"

"How would ya like to buy an ace pair of eyeglasses to see how the things are?" A balefully mischievous grin mouthed the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's bloody red, cherub lips, quivering in the scoff and finishing with applying her formal make-up and then dumping its supplies inside her gothic Victorian style nightstand's drawer.

"Jude, did you just call me blind?"

"Not actually,"Within less than a few seconds, consequently the pious former holy woman lifted up her rear from the edge of the king-sized bed and approached her husband who was dotingly bouncing and rocking their little cherub angel. Dim intimidation peculiarly painted the younger gentleman's porcelain, unblemishedly young-looking complexion with candidly vivid hues. "But ya look undeniably handsome with our little cherub angel!" All of a sudden, the former aspiring Monsignor warily handed the infant to the former nun to spend her very first moments with him after their arduous preparation to flee their booked hotel room temporarily and organize specifically their schedule for tonight. Although the ambiguous dilemma of having a baby that was less than a year older and their honeymoon endured a week, it didn't prevent the wed couple to have fun and organize somehow creatively and originally their evening.

Despite the ordeals as parents which the duo are confronting either regularly or once in a while of a toddler, it didn't cease their life in general. Their intimate life. Their chaotically busy life. Their leisure. They tried their best to stably balance in every way their life and each remarkable aspect as middle-aged adults. The majority of the couples who were also parents had similar issues which were pretty relatable for Judy and Timothy, howsoever, their efforts to harmonize and balance everything was their top priority.

In the wee hours of the evening in Hartford slowly bled into the twilight of the thickly wonderful ebony mantle, icily swaddling the living beings with its insecure darkness obscuring any lights' illuminations to curtain their exposed fleshes and attires, Martha decided to flee for Waterbury for awhile, in order to behold her uncle who was recently institutionalized in the Vermont State Hospital.

The train station wasn't graciously overcrowded with horde of strangers awaiting for their train dream destinations or at least to earn their precious visits by their own relatives or friends for which they're eagerly looking forward.

The roundish, alabaster moon hovered in the starless nocturnal sky, illustrating the full moon's landscape with its luxuriously impressive pigments, agitatedly marking their own territory with its different hue.

Shortly after purchasing her ticket for Waterbury to pay a visit to Sebastian in the last minute, within a half an hour the imminent train for the other part of Vermont forcefully fatigued the brunette and seating uneasily on one of the desolated wooden benches, bouncing her crossed legs lazily after dumping her jean-textured rucksack on her left, cozily escorting her as her youthfully spidery, bony olive-tanned fingers registered to work on the zip of one of the essential pockets to retrieve a medical book for distraction and killing her time during her pure impatience to behold her uncle again. Sebastian's despaired, godforsaken complexion, scintillatingly grimaced and baptized in an unholy despondence, dilapidating slowly but surely each pattern of mirth that once meaningfully apt to ornate his attributes and diminishing their healthy luster.

Little did the brunette know that the Italian compatriot would confront the trio that was replacing the manager of the flowerstore in Hartford's slums and most of all earn his unhallowed retribution for physically assaulting Cassandra and being on the verge of breaking a couple of bones of hers that constructed steadily her spine's anatomy. Martha didn't even know the capability of Andrea, Cassandra and Madeleine could outsmart the nefarious serial killer's older sibling and even having vicious intentions of granting him a madhouse to be his main home for now. It purely aroused and mischievously, stealthily tickled her real adrenaline and starkly iron-willed fury coursing flexibly into her veins and muscles to erupt her berserk humor to take a toll on her. In spite of her tremendously excessive adrenaline and ablaze wrath, the medical student's attempts to conceal any wee, dubious signs of her current humor were on the verge of exposure unless another provocative taunt caught her off guard.

Fortunately, the beehive of streetlamps populating almost every inch of the train station provided generously to the medical student the necessary light to examine in a scrutiny each paragraph, each sentence that was part of her recent progress of the book she's currently reading.

A pathetically, nevertheless, painfully hedonistic, pleasurable featherly-soft spring breeze blew her long mop of exquisitely flossy dark tresses and clothes along with its mild slap across the recently flipped pages of the medical book she's widely spread and a couple of fingers stabilizing the wobbling alabaster, flimsy sheets. Lowly droning under her breath with its melodiously hedonistic tunes tingled angelic hymns during her distraction and the silver-tongued, energetic song of the crickets, pitching the background along with the small crowd of people blatantly chattering, laughing, yelling or crying, whilst a straightforwardly stuffy smile permeated past her naturally roseate, plumpish lips.

"What are you reading, young lady?" The suddenness of a sinisterly somber, hoarse chuckle managed to startle her and her focus bulk utmost into the shadowed figure of the infamous psychopath, maintaining an adequately platonic, intimate proximity, gauged solely a handful of inches. The abruptness of the uninvited guest to her privacy was far cry from predictable phenomenon or rather disaster for the young lady, biting unintentionally her wet, strawberry-coloured tongue intimidatingly and hesitantly darting her coffee brown optics at the tall figure.

"There's a name of the book, imprinted on its cover." Lukewarm haughtiness erupted on her tongue tip after elaborating the medley of vowels and syllables' iron-willed construction of its retaliation, aimed to Cayden who removed his classy, pitch-black top hat for awhile, in order to manipulate his small, neatly trimmed fingernails to scratch his clammy head with its short mop of hoary strands, veiling his full, round profile. "You sound peculiarly strange. It's indescribable what kind of tone you're using aimed to me." Narrowing her pools of abysmally expressive coffee brown, the young woman inclined surreptitiously skeptical her thin, elegant eyebrow, lingering her delicate fingers to cradle the broadly spread book pages on which she was utterly focused at the moment.

"How funny, baby doll!" Another wryly woeful chuckle clicked the roof of the Italian compatriot's mouth, folding cold-bloodedly emphatic his bulky, muscular arms across his chest, objecting his friendliness, fiercely flaming his ablaze chocolate brown optics with sheer adrenaline and venomous thrist for revenge, whilst his daughter ushered her front ivory, still firm teeth to clamp its lower lip to be incessantly gnawed, opting to conceal her apprehension and intimidation in the face of the evil and pure darkness. "What are you doing here in the early evening in the train station with a book in your hands?"

"I'm not a little girl, dad! I'm just waiting for the train."

"That's it!" Wrenching widened her smoky quartz minerals when the Italian compatriot violently, emphatically impulsive, reigned by its magnifying adrenaline pumping into his veins and forcefully commanding him to be involved in automatically accomplishing unspeakably unbelievable things against his and his family's reputation in general, snatched the medical book from her grip, despite her blood-curdlingly indestructible attempts to not allow his sudden grapple deprive her from its item possession. "That's it, you little slut!" Afterward retrieving the medical book and scanning in a deftly fleet scrutiny for a split second with its intensifyingly bone-chilly pause suffocating the both adults and Martha lifted up her rear and straightened momentarily her posture from her own very seat to cross dramatically cold-hearted her arms, anticipating in front of Cayden's wicked, unpromising presence to get back one of her favorite books as if it bear a semblance of an impatient little girl, awaiting impatiently for her new toy, although her strictly remorseless parents. "You're the bare shame not only of my fucking family, but also of my fucking reputation!" Within every relentlessly sloppy cuss which his tongue stubbornly crafted, he charged the shut book and tossed it severely feisty at the top of her head, subsequently bare stoicism masked her youthfully appealing facial features in no time and trying her best to not demonstrate even the slightest, the most subtle sign of sore pain and agony.

"You're supposed to be freaking happy, not a particularly frustrated, dad!"

"Happy about what?" A ferociously antagonistic howl escorted affably in the company of serpentine hiss honed up his piercingly domineering, bloodthirsty glare, spearing her parchment, freshly young-looking complexion marching up to her to diminish the small scale of space they traded mutually and smack an aggressively furious slap across her well-carved, chubby cheek, followed by the soar heavy rain of twin fat tears glimmering onto her lower eyelids as her knees motionlessly brushed the cemented ground under the childishly inquisitive gazes of the passing horde of people, encircling the duo. "Happy about having an incestual relationship with my brother who's now in a mental hospital for criminally insane in the other part of Vermont? Be ashamed of yourself, you little fucking twat!" Charging his feet to kick relentlessly her bony ribcage didn't even bother to not taunt one of the strangers to participate categorically to aid the juvenile brunette to be on her feet. In the meanwhile, a rich map of plum bruises tinted hypodermically Martha's epidermis, accompanied gingerly by electrifying goosebumps. "It doesn't hurt for having such a huge impact on my emotionality,"A sharp exhale unloaded the middle-aged gentleman's muscly, bulky chest and stepping aisde within an inch to maintain an adequate distance with the humiliated young woman, earning the inquisitive stares of the strangers who were actual nobodies to her, howsoever, nobody having the nerve to join and confront the invicibility of the nefarious serial killer. "Does it?"

"Stop it!" Fashioning into wrathfully balled fists her elvish, bruised weatherered hands, stilling the meek tilt of her painfully throbbing head as she narrowed her black-eyed despondent gawk at the older man, having no intentions of having a physical detrimental impact on her father though his aggressive nature. "I love my uncle very much and in a single heart beat I would do anything for him."

"You know what, young lady? You're not part of my family," After his failed attempt to kick her again shortly after the nimbleness prominently aggravated her immobile stance with its flabbergasting dodge for farewell, a weak, cocksure smirk decorated the Italian compatriot's face. "You ain't also part of my responsibilities, but just an ugly, idiotic disgrace for everything I did for you and for your very being, Martha! Just swallow the fugly truth about the absolute reality before even thinking of moving on to accomplish a diplomatic forgiveness from me!"

Author's Note: What are your thoughts on Martha's pregnancy? Did you guess correctly who it could be her biological father? Does Sebastian, Cayden's older brother, deserves to be imprisoned in a mental hospital or rather Cayden deserves it way more?

Share with me your thoughts on the new chapter and the asked questions! Don't be shy! Moreover, I hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter! :)


	30. Cloying Reminiscences

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"Five by fifteen, seventy-five! Three by ten!"

"Maddie, sweetheart, can you hear me?"

"I'm truly pleased, my love! Mommy is actually the beauty here and you're also doubtlessly beautiful, little sunshine!"

"Well, I used to be once a true bombshell! Now I'm just the butt of a joke, because the past can't be brought along with the faded beauty I once possessed,"

"There's a name of the book, imprinted on its cover. You sound peculiarly strange. It's indescribable what kind of tone you're using aimed to me."

"How funny, baby doll! What are you doing here in the early evening in the train station with a book in your hands?"

Within less than a minute, the ill-famed serial killer fled momentarily the train station as his elegantly cocksure gait illuminated his very nature and ghosting the cemented ground until his large-frame was out of the nobodies and Martha's sight, out of divinely bulking their optics into him and belittlement of his own daughter, Martha's roundish, pant-clad knees dawdled on the cemeneted ground, narrowing her smoky quartz bijous at the ocean of strangers who were just throwing quick glances at her humiliated self and then passed her as if nothing has happened.

Even though the brunette's indisputably potent strength armored in fragile identity dimly, unceasingly illuminating her very nature, she could no longer handle the mortification of the recent scenario of her father finding out about her incestual relationship she shared with her uncle whom she didn't have only platonic feelings like a niece and an uncle, but also crystalline, soarly translucent tears bubbled from her lower eyelids and straining her eyeballs. In the interval, the brunette manifested to fashion into balled fists her petite, ghostly milky hands whilst managing to grasp her knees and intensifying slowly but surely, ominously the remaining strength, coursing through her muscles and adrenaline pumping into her veins. The mortification's genuine notion and pronounciation bittersweetly laced the young woman's tongue and it couldn't be savoured cloyingly. It didn't have a positive notion which was truly meaningful and speaking emotions behind the scenario, situated on the train station a handful of minutes ago.

Despite the medical student's tremendous inkling of restricting her softer side to resurface and creamily, profusely powder her youthfully gorgeous, femininely dainty facial features, mirroring starkly her true identity and her recent humor, the tears weren't enough to obscure the heir of darkness populating her puffy, bruised facial skin. Severely icy shivers and nausea scorched straightforwardly her tissues, examining in a scrutiny the blurry surroundings as the relentless heavy rain of crystalline, stickily salty tears budded eagerly her lower eyelids and trickling down her well-carved, chubby cheeks. The reciprocal heart pulsations' acceleration frequency whammed into her brittle ribcage, attempting to sort neatly her mind.

Her father emphatically forsakened her for carrying his brother's child and the sheer bertrayal she surreptitiously villainous rewarded the infamous serial killer. Even though Cayden's tremendous care for his family and the only people that bestowed him with triumphiant support, unconditional love and murderous warmness, the separation in two different guilts was an inexorable phenomenon and despondently deplorable for the young lady. The only person whom she could take a bullet or whose shoulder she would bawl her off was namely her uncle Sebastian who was recently committed in the Vermont State Hospital.

The night lamp's vibrantly gilt rotund illumination partly obscured the heinously unholy darkness persevering to capture Martha's petite frame, layering as background her gigantic silhouette with its devilish horns and tail, representing her deadly sin's invicible lord reigning over her very character.

Profoundly versatile, stubborn stimulus to straighten her posture from the chilly ground exceedingly urged the medical student prop on the cement for awhile until lifting up her rear and upper body to squarely face the moon perpendicularly. It was never too late for anybody to give up even granting blandly ruthless their hopes even if it's remaining only one hope to continue their dynamic roller coaster of their life journey as well. The expansive world was far cry from its apocalyptic perdition, razing to the ground every living being and every artistic, outstanding creation crafted by humanoid bare hands. The end isn't near. After the apocalypse, there's always a chaotic new catharsis, promisingly raining onto each survivor.

"Just don't give up!" An inner voice's owner was distinctively feminine, dinging alarming tones into the brunette's mind when embarrassingly, sluggishly wobbling to the wooden bench to flump her rear onto the free space offering her benevolently its comfort and reclining her back onto the wooden material, securing gingerly, mellowly her spine and loins. "It's worthless to be miserable just because of a person trying to bring you down to the edges. You aren't even worth to bawl your eyes off because of that." The feminine inner voice's encouraging monologue sequel bestowed with perpetual myriad of boldness to the juvenile medical student to stiffle the inward, desperate sobs darkening her parchment, youthful complexion, whereas the heavy rain of resiliently silent tears beaded and strained remorseless her cheeks and lips.

"I-I'm not weak." Plummeting down abruptly the decibels into a resiliently encouraging murmur, solely distinctive for her petite, vulnerable ears the juvenile lady tried her best to survey in a scrutiny the slightly damaged thick book, manifesting to zip her naturally nude pink, plumpish lips into a pensive, poetic purse.

"Of course, you are not weak, Martha!" Invisible fiendish, eerily soothing twain of strong, leanly muscly arms snaked to apt to brace the brunette's upper back, whereas diabolical scarlet halo floating on her left side obliviously glimmered bolt from the blue its scintillating light, dazzling her peripherical vision. "You aren't all alone dealing with the person who is not only your father," A heavy sigh categorically gauged the young woman's remaining patience, coursing through her cells and tissues whilst lingering her gaze on the back of the medical book, clamping her front ivory teeth to nibble the raw spot of her lower plump lip. "But also the actual murderer of your mother Clementine. Don't ever forget who's trying to eliminate the family he thinks he wants to protect from his foes as he brought himself each trouble!"

"S-Satan!" Squinting up her cocoa brown embers at the much taller figure seating alongside her and snuggling platonically kindheartedly into the welcoming embrace as her head dropped onto his toned, muscular chest, bleating a blatant mumble, composed in a caught-off-guard stammer. "I'm surprised what I'm even doing with loving a parent who murdered brutally my own mom. Why I'm loving him when I'm presumed to despise him to the depths of my bones for," At the moment, a colossal, unhealthily veiny hand's fingertips managed to reach for her twin beefy tears' cataract trickling downward her lower eyelids restlessly and daubing its salty moisture of her unblemished complexion, stilling her low-spirited gaze at the invicinble representative of the deadliest sin wrath, blazing her ethereally lavish, coldblooded humor's reflection mirroring her young-looking, refreshingly fresh feminine facial attributes. "For punishing me to have only father instead like the other kids, you know, a loving mother and father next to them? Why my father punished my mother with the death, itself?"

"It's not your fault at all, Martha! The fault is only caged inside the person that retributed you with nothing than half orphan title."

"I don't care if my mother was a hooker, a famous politician or even an accountant,"

"You aren't certain her death scenario that's bone-chilling, dear!" Cradling gently, affectionately her head into his colossal, oddly secure hands, Satan registered to spear with his dark gape her smoky quartz bijous in no time, a weak, wicked smile tugged at his mouth.

"She was the best thing that has ever happened in my whole miserable life along with my uncle." A swan, mellow thumb sweetly, delicately traced her dainty jaw, peaking to her earlobe horizontally after following properly the sharp of its bone curve. "They're the only good people I've ever encountered along with Morgan Jill, my cousin."

"Your uncle knows the best how Cayden got away with the homicide of his immense, despicable jealousy that's responsible for his doubtless, timeless hatred." In the meanwhile, Martha's wet, strawberry-coloured tongue manipulated to twirl and whirl in central axis to lick greedily, invitingly her lower and upper lip, indicating her tongue's motion nimbleness momentarily.

"He's enough upset to be disturbed how his brother pushed my mother towards the train as a successful attempt of getting rid off her." Recurring apt to tandem the motion of her twirling berry-coloured tongue deliciously, wickedly greedy damping with her very saliva her upper lip, maneuvering a meek, despondently humble nod as the Lord of wrath's fingers featherly-soft, dotingly grappling and massaging her pale-roseate, soft earlobe. Explicitly vivid flashbacks of Clementine Grace's death scene clouded candidly scintillating her pools of abysmally expressive chocolate brown, opting to divinely reminiscence with her vivid imagination how Cayden pushed her towards the running train and the violently shrill of dead weight thudding the train front. The demise persevering the life which Clementine Grace would live and age to behold her own creation made of her own flesh and blood fully flourished as a young woman iron-willedly sedated her muscles from head to toes and thomping her bones with the last thing that contacts her tissues before wrenching shut her eyelids for eternity at last. The juvenile medical student's life would be much different if her biological mother was still alive. Nevertheless, the absolute reality was relentlessly objecting any kind form of dream scenarios to be parallel even connecting weakly with the contemporary years and the tribulations which the brunette was recently clashing on her own. "It won't calm him down after those orderlies have doped him with bunch of chemical medicines and crappy food to fill his guts to not leak anything about my father or mine past, because he will be too exhausted even to peel a word."

Long minutes passed at turtle's pace when the infamous serial killer of Hartford retired to the woods. Oddly, the Italian compatriot didn't get back at his dilapidating house to be out of the general population's sight, due to the fact, they would instantly detect his leaking outstanding features and they would daredevilly phone the authorities.

Instead his recent destination was wandering in the abysmally endless, sinisterly majestic woods. The iron-willedly humdrum whisper of his masculine footsteps, docilely stomping the brassly slumbering grass beneath his shoed feet objected his pure exhaustion and utmost intentions to obscure his own large-frame from anybody's sight. A long, nugatory amble in the depths of the nature's monumental masterpiece with ocean of grandiosely glamorous trees and wildly kinky, thick bushes wouldn't hurt him or get him in trouble at all.

The forest walks in the nighttime episode blood-curdlingly imperiled every uninvited guest due to the thick, rotund mantle of ebony darkness clouding their features to confront ethereally endless myriad of hair-rising darkness and the howls of aggressive, foreign fiercely hazardous animals populating certain inches of their exact home. He felt like a foreign, unwelcomed to explore the forest on his own when the night fiercely bled into its twilight and marking its dangerous hours of loners like him to roam around the spine-tingling sites where his existence wasn't dearly welcomed.

When the roaming journey smoothly, gradually advanced through the outskirts of the woods, a desolated teal retro payphone outstandingly divine embellished and flabbergastingly caught off guard the middle-aged gentleman, who was precisely certain and familiar with Hartford's locations. It was a sheer possibility for Cayden to keep in touch with his older brother even trade a couple of words though his potent, raw resentment of the incestual relationship Sebastian surreptitiously staged with Martha behind Cayden's back. Once approaching the teal payphone, shortly before snatching vehemently emphatic a coin from his slacks' profound pocket, consequently his mammoth, lukewarmly veiny hand slipped downward to his pair of slacks' other pocket to retrieve a lighter and a cigar length from the cigarette package by inserting its cancer stick between his naturally pale-pinkish, chapped lips and liting it up until he dumped back the lighter in its default pocket lastly, eventually curling his lip to plucker nonchalantly tepid by taking initial drag at the cancer stick, in order to blow its severe cloudy canescent dim permeating in the thin air.

His other hand's masculinely meaty, handy fingers manipulated to slip to rummaging for the tiny, remarkable coin and thereafter insert it into the payphone, whereas grappling its teal, unorthodoxly cruddy earpiece clinging to his vulnerable ear and drumming his fingertips forcefully to dial Vermont State Hospital manager's actual phone number as he recalled so far and allowing the resurface of candidly dim memories clouding his thoughts. As soon as the Vermont State Hospital's phone number was eventually dialed properly or at least equating to the original, a couple of seconds anticipation elapsed through eavesdropping restlessly the alarming tones of humdrum, furious pip rooming the eardrums and taking a second drag at his cigar length momentarily.

"You are currently talking with Vermont State Hospital's manager Dr. Catherine Gilfoil! W-Who's calling?" At the moment, the friendly, raspily rusty Scottish lilt of the young doctor punctured her formal professionalism contacting the stranger man whose heavy breathing barely inkled its brilliant detection behind his unknown persona.

"Sebastian Gray's younger brother!" The suddenness of the Italian compatriot's smoky quartz huge, roundish cabochons landing on his formal oxford shoes for a split second opt to aid him to recollect his thoughts and neatly sort his mind during the officially private phone colloquy he swapped with the Scottish lady.

"Mister Cayden Gray, right?" Her Scottish, beamingly rusty accent genuinely, prominently ruptured his caught-off-guard mannerism indicated in his incessant lustfully bloodthirst desire to smoke and another taken puff at the cigarette maneuvered exceedingly his lips to expel its detrimentally grizzly acute cloudy dim that shortly after vanished and no longer glimmered palishly past his optics that shifted its utter attention to the functioning handset.

"Absolutely!" A sharp exhale fastened his brittle lungs, fearlessly emphatic narrowing his coffee brown optics behind his bulky back for a split second, fathoming utterly individually the desired loneliness suffocating his very presence in the forest and making sure nobody accompanied him except the nocturnal gloomy murkiness comfortingly escorting him. "I would like to know about Sebastian's current condition. Do you have any news about him?"

"Well, he's diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder which is a mental illness associated with the extreme mood swings from high to low and vice versa, Mr. Gray!" Whilst the pristinely clean-gloved-clad fingers of the doctor apt to tandem its waltz around her silver earpiece and her elbow propping its functioning hand as its elbow cap motionlessly wobbled onto the cherry wood bureau, her solely free elvish, ungloved hand motionlessly battered to the wooden material affectionately, delicate fingertips tipping uneasily its dull drum. "I'm completely certain you are familiar what the difference is between high and low when it comes up to the mental illnesses, Mr. Gray!"

"I do! Isn't true there were three women that are responsible to contact your administration," Meekly, modestly bobbing his head in strong agreement, the ill-famed serial killer flicked up his peripherical gaze due to the unfamiliar, strangely arcane noise participating in the nocturnal ballad of the crickets' songs. "Is it?"

"They're actually as I'll keep their names anonymous, because I don't want anybody to harvest their woes for the sake of the institution and my reputation as a doctor!"

A frosty, interminable doldrum settled gingerly and evolved the phone conversation which Catherine and Cayden mutually portioned with each other that wasn't even enduring its aftermaths for more than a minute. A long minute sluggishly gaited haughtily at sunset's pace as the middle-aged gentleman whose cigarette embraced its epilogue with being tossed ruthlessly reckless on the ground and its cigarette butt squashed mercilessly, cold-heartedly by his oxford-clad feet in a jiffy.

The both rivalry sides that peculiarly divided Cayden's contempt dilemma to persistently fluctuant dominate between his older sibling and his old foe Madeleine who was in the company of Andrea and Cassandra to kick off Sebastian from the flowerstore for harassment and violence. The needness to participate in private colloquy with Sebastian and apt to aim to discuss each segment that was staged behind his back petered out his contempt for him due to only one condition. To behold his brother and gravely discuss each agitating topic that was against their will. Last but not least, his tremendous, bare abhorrence for the trio that is the crucial core for the middle-aged brother's imprisonment in a facility for lunatics megawattly spiraled.

The betrayal of Andrea to corporate with Jude and her inner circle apted to be parallel to the nefarious serial killer's loss of allies against his everlasting, toilsome rivalry with nobody else than the Howards and their mates at last.

"Mister Gray, is everything okay?" The juvenile doctor's spontaneous sufficiently rowdy enquiry hardly startled and nonplussed the psychopath whose solely free hand meaty, masculinely nimble fingers ushered to fix his dark top hat and adjusting its position to its elegantly default. The psycho's balefully bared teeth exposed the nicotine-stained enamel and malefical glint of brass yellowish hues darkening his teeth after smoking tobaccos.

"I guess I've to be okay, Dr. Catherine Gilfoil!"

"Oh!" A flabbergasted, nonplussed gasp hammered her tongue and flicking up her azure blue huge, radiantly abstract optics to encounter the partly shut blinds-clad window for a split second until flashing her stare back to the opulent untouched pile of files with recently committed lunatics. "I guess that silence we shared for a moment was quite troubling. I mean, I'm completely sure it's not easy for you that your brother is there." Heavy sigh measured the Scottish woman's bare, humongous patience. "Under the supervision of sanitarians and our staff members that are strictly observing everything! They're always in charge there, keep in mind!" The suddenness of the resiliently stealth footsteps etching away from the payphone as the middle-aged man retired back to his carelessly gleeful stroll in the woods whilst the earpiece's cord fortunately sluggish stabilized as the teal earpiece motioned flunctuantly backward and forward, swinging and swaying freely. "Hello? Mister Gray?" The only noise rooming the godforsaken earpiece was the nocturnaly spine-chilling mumble of unfamiliar masculine footsteps, interpreted with its humdrum, nevertheless, disappointingly spooky composition notioning the voiceless sound. "Are you interested in keeping in touch and keeping you updated about your brother?"

\- A Half an Hour Later or So -

When the Howards fled their reserved hotel room and used the elevator, in order to not confront the face of the volatile accidents during their stroll journey in descending the stairs, thereafter they retreated to the restaurant as Judy ordered for herself a vegetarian salad, coupled prominently with glass of fresh lukewarm champagne and cinnamon pumpkin soup, whereas Timothy's order apt to equate to a glass of mineral water, slice of sweet potato pie and warm mushroom salad.

The range of anticipation for their ordered meals and beverages to be presentably served on their dining table was calculated no more than a quarter an hour.

First and foremost, the hotel's restaurant recent quantity of visitors was meager especially a handful of pairings that were either platonic like friends or just friendzoned or on the contrary married or illegitimate couples populating almost each inch of the facility. The romantically promising, bizarrely serene ambience graciously etched the Howards and waltizing mirthfully around them.

It's been more than a month since the former devotional members of the clergy have dedicated pearly their precious time to go out on a restaurant or other facility to entertain themselves. The Valentine's Day experience they candidly memorably swapped mutually such as going on a restaurant and afterwards in the bar due to the free Valentine's Day party even fleeing early the bar due to a woeful incident with Lydia Jane who was genuinely haunting with its mist fogginess Judy's memories and it couldn't be obscured by a thin veil of oblivion.

The alluringly mouth-watering, piquant fragrance of freshly cooked dishes and vanilla liquor inexorably imbued past the trio's flexible nostrils.

"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction! 'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try! I can't get no, I can't get no! When I'm drivin' in my car, and the man come on the radio!" The speakers' refreshingly played Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones as the lead vocalist's indisputable honey-mouthed voice boldly emphasized the lyrics.

"The Rolling Stones!" At the moment, the former religious woman of the cloth's spidery delicate, gloved fingers maneuvered to grapple the silverware fork and subsequently pronging a mouthful of guiltlessly sufficient scale of her second bite of the vegetarian salad until the bite didn't perch on her wet, berry-coloured tongue by commencing munching warily, gracefully the mouthful quantity of salad, confined into her oral caverns. Even though the little boy protracted playfully joyous his satin, pudgy arms in the air and parting his cherub, baby pinkish lips into a huge, content grin, escorted soothingly by a complacently promising, welcoming boyish giggle as twain of orbs landed on him, spearing bountifully content with their gapes the youngster.

"Aren't you surprised they're not just occasionally playing on our first honeymoon dinner together?" The suddenness of the British aristocrat dropping down his colossal, creamily milky hand to perch onto their baby son's crispily feather-soft chestnut hair and consequently taking lead into persistently, gently combing its chestnut strands between his pristinely silken fingers that taunted Edward Ralph's frequency of the contagiously recurring boyish, childlike giggle to remarkably play on loop, bearing a semblance of eerily broken record in a desolated room.

"I'm just mentioning their name, darling!" Thereafter the older woman swigged the small horde of meal chunks after slipping from her tongue downward to her organs and manifesting to retrieve the glass of refreshingly insatiable champagne and gulping a handful of tiny, blamelessly vulnerable sips until her stable bracing-clad fingers around the glass material dumped the glass aloof on the table. "There's no particular offense in it! I just like them."

"If you're asking me, they're brilliant amazes! No wonder I'm a keen fan of them along with the Beatles!" As soon as the former holy priest's only free mammoth, pristinely mellow hand's fingers headstrongly, meekly braced the glass material with the humble, translucent liquid, throughout he lifted it up to sip of it and then leave it aside on the table as his pools of abysmally photogenic cocoa brown fixated on their little ray of sunshine, lingering the process of delicate strokes and fingering his dark, youthfully crispy strands tickling his digits and neatly trimmed small fingernails. "Isn't that right, little cherub prince?"

"Ya, dada!" Blatantly cooing its mellow ode of his approval with childlike, gleeful boldness, the youngster speared with his hazelish-brown optics the British aristocrat's.

"Yar into British shit!" Then the explicitly graphic vowels and syllables' clash to build its genesis of revelation to sail out of Judy's champagne-stained tongue tip, thus she managed to swat kindly, faintly her husband's broad, muscly shoulder.

"He's tellin' me more and more about some useless information! Supposed to fire my imagination! I can't get no, oh, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey! That's what I say!"

"It's not called shit." A dry, coldblooded lisp elaborated rawly the younger gentleman's retaliation, whereas Judy could no longer shroud balefully her menacingly contagious girlish, blatantly coy chuckle, raspily rusting its honey-mouthed tones and manipulating his mouth surreptitiously to reproduce repeatedly the recently eavesdropped lyrics, rooming his eardrums and ferociously firing his vivid imagination and passion for the Rolling Stones' music he genuinely enjoyed and liked from the bottom of his flimsy heart. "My sister Anna is seriously on fire about the Beatles."

"I was just kidding it's shit!" Stilling her curved plumpish, bright red lips into the radiantly amorous, sarcastic grin slitting open-mouthed the flawlessly ivory, fascinating enamel glittering past the male duo's embers, alight by her grin and very presence reassuringly, vibrantly swaddling them. "Good for Anna! She's pretty awesome person when I met her personally."

"She's for sure! No wonder why my father once said that she took after me some personality traits!"

"By the way she treated not only me, but also Edward was undeniably gracious of her! I can truly see for who she is as yar both fighting for whatever ya want and when yar with kids," The haphazardness of the uneasily ticklish, sympathetic hoarse chuckle clicking the roof of her mouth, the Bostonian dropped her gloved hand to trace with her brittle fingers her son's featherly-soft jaw line. "Yar like different people as if they're the most precious beings you've ever met along with the animals. I love that versatility ya both possess when it comes up to the treatment ya harvest from the others, no matter how dreadful or adequate is! It's as translucent as glass eventually and yar both granting the same, however, yar forgivable people!"

"It indeed depends of the person who truly deserves atonement from me!" In the interval, the Bostonian ushered her Ravish Me Red, deliciously plumpish lips to zip into a pensive, cautious purse, being all ears to Timothy's monologue and shooting a fleet glance at their baby son and tracing softly her fingers up to his pudgy, petite earlobe and kneading on circles nonetheless. "If I genuinely love them and I can see the deserved second chance they could have with me, regardless how much I've hurt them or they did to me," A sharp exhale waltzed its oxygen to course at his wee, vulnerable nostrils and constricting his toned, muscular chest promptly. "They're divinely blessed with my tolerance along with another chance to stay in my life! I'm not capable of contempt or giving somebody a cold shoulder!" Stiffling a medley of gasp and half-hearted, profoundly appealing chuckle to drip sloppily from his mouth, the former devotional holy man's front ivory, still firm teeth plonked to nip at the delicate skin of his lower lusciously plump lip. "Not everybody is capable of tossing the grudges out of themselves along with the contempt. Despite my mistakes and selfishness back then, anyway I once thought there's a second chance to be with you, although my selfish self would be otherwise on another opinion."

"Yar the wisest and the most patient man I've ever seen and even have the chance to share a word with even if we've somehow points to disagree on mutually!"

"I can't get no satisfaction, I can't get no satisfaction! 'Cause I try and I try and I try and I try! I can't get no, I can't get no! When I'm watchin' my TV and a man comes on and tells me!"

\- Flashback -

\- A Couple of Months Ago -

\- 25th of December, 1965 -

The wee hours of the Christmas morning that bled into the pale silver light filtering freely, vibrantly the rooms and the platonic duo along with the little sweet ray of sunshine discovered their Christmas presents, subsequently their impending destination was the kitchen to share a diplomatically platonic breakfast together.

When the kettle pooled with transparent liquid and the saucepan with two eggs battered its steel surface which was under the care of the British aristocrat, the former nun pulled up to her shoulder her crimson red woolen sweater to expose her braless boson as one of her breasts' naturally plum, sore nipple was suckled by the three-month-old infant, whose pudgy, childishly elvish hands cradled the soft fat, wrenching shut leisurely his eyelids to relish his actual breakfast.

"Aren't ya peckish for breakfast, Timothy?" The luxurious medley of blatant suction of naturally perfectly healthy breast milk, aggressively howling frosty wind and the moderately healthy, meaningful breathing of the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer suckling on fresh scent of roasted eggs on the saucepan abruptly permeated the kitchen. The middle-aged lady's satin, woolen sweater-clad arm supported the infant's weight warily, dearly to not unintentionally, woefully drop him on the marbled tiled flooring.

"Not at all! I'm totally fine even if I starve." The suddenness of the rusty, dilapidating heart pulsations to thud rhythmically monotonous, vehemently into the former sister of the church's chest after earning the begged response from the younger man who was taking care of the coffee's brew and breakfast preparation, it monstrously unspeakable broke her heart even questioned Timothy's unhealthy habit to starve himself for breakfast even drinking the caffeine cocoa brown liquid on an empty stomach. They hadn't even swapped a romantic moment such as molting into inviting, lustfully desirable kisses and demanding snuggles that outlasted for a handful of hours due to an accidental naps they mutually traded with each other either on the king-sized bed or on the couch."It's okay, Jude! I've had such times when I haven't even thought of eating anything to fill my stomach." Sigh of relief quivered dexterously Timothy's frail lungs, subsequently rummaging the upper kitchen cabinet for two separate, untouched yet plain mugs and then shifting his attention to the counter's lowest drawer for an empty, ordinary plate shortly after yanking a silverware kitchen knife and fork onto the counter, motionlessly kipping.

"Haven't you kept in mind how unhealthy it is to torture yarself with an empty glass and skipping breakfast?"

"Come on, Jude! I'll be okay without breakfast." Even the mild bicker that almost peaked celestially to its unsacred heated debate about unhealthy, detrimental habits evolving the former aspiring Monsignor's daily schedule, he opted to peter out the passionately fiery adrenaline coursing through his veins and muscles, in spite of his vast tolerance to not erupt its unspeakably inexorable rage pulsating into his figure, whereas his chocolate brown big, rotund minerals shot back its friendly reminder conveying its meaningfully authentic message to maintain an eye contact with her and imply his calmness and diplomacy to reign on Christmas along with the positive vibes instead of doubtlessly toxically imperiling one another's physical and mental health with heated discussion and bestowing fiendishly heinous each other with bad vibes. "I know how much you despise me and it doesn't cease the fact you want me alive."

"Due to the fact, there are boiling feelings inside me, that doesn't cease what ya said as last words! There are always opportunities to work on everything and to harmonize everything if only we want it." Docilely humble, faint shake of the former licentious nightclub singer reaffirmed her façade's categorical position. Despite her mixed feelings about the British compatriot even scarcely standing him physically and mentally even fathoming the genuine notion of his presence for a relentless burden, at least she has never wished his demise or nemesis to be performed intentionally or unintentionally. "For example, there were patients that bugged me off to bones, but that doesn't change what the devil would want if it was living inside me. The evil would want me to be a shameless murderer, despite his strength to keep me against my will of innocence."

A few minutes passing at summer breeze's pace due to the ethereally timeless, logically complex colloquy the both former members of the church traded altruistically and Judy finished with breastfeeding Edward Ralph by dropping the humbly cheerful sweater's hem to flare across her lower abdomen lastly, the coffee was not only freshly brewed and poured profusely in the empty cups, further the plate's surface benevolently swaddled conveniently the twin, deliciously fat poached eggs until everything was warily served on the kitchen table.

"Just enjoy your breakfast and I don't want any bad vibes slipping from your tongue on Christmas!"A promiscuously villainous clash of vowels and syllables vibrated and collided into one another in his Adam's apple, rationally sly constructing his impending reassuring reminder to convey the older woman's message to overlook the negativity and held grudges by utterly focusing on the refreshingly warm, insatiably prepared breakfast. "It's Christmas time rather than have a cow day." Lowering rapidly the decibels transmuting his velvety British lilt's glowing, beamingly amiable suggestion into a mumble jingled angelic hymns as the blonde handed their little cherub angel to the former ambitious Monsignor to scoop him into his potent, masculinely muscly arms to cradle and bounce lightly the weight, warmly swaddled into his protectively, affectionate embrace. "Shh, shh, shh! It's high time for positive vibes." Succumbed by the silver-tonguedly honeyed lull tingling its angelic anthems into Judy and Edward Ralph's flexible ears, throughout the Bostonian manifested her spidery alabaster, handy fingers to snatch the fork and knife to cut on ocean of small pieces of the twin fat eggs, whilst the youngster registered to insert his pudgy thumb into his mouth and sponging mellowly its delicate, alabaster flesh. "Look at you, sweet ray of sunshine!"

"Dada!"

"I know, little cherub prince!" His other hand's virginally smooth, candidly amicable fingers traced gingerly, slowly his jaw up to his earlobe, admiring his youthful beauty and inheriting his parents' ethereally outstanding, extraordinary facial attributes. A benevolently broad, vibrantly merry smile slit thickly across the former clergyman's naturally pale-pinkish, brim lips, bleeding its chubby silken glossiness of mirth, highlighting remarkably presentable his attributes and darting his coffee brown minerals to Edward Ralph's chubby, full profile, alight by his babyish innocence and guiltlessly sympathetically radiant nature. "I'm clearly sure it's time to change the past with the present and living for today and tomorrow by rendering this year's Christmas memorable with family, despite the conflicts."

"Dada!"

"You have fairly agreed, sunshine!" Meantime, the British compatriot's a handful of virginally marbled, smooth fingers slipped to pinch mischievously teasing his son's button nose and thus immediately arousing his beamingly sunny chuckle saturating his babyish undertones spotlighting his pure euphoria as Timothy couldn't help, nevertheless participate daringly into the ode of chuckles.

Notwithstanding the Bostonian's iron-willed stubbornness to persuade her former lover to masticate anything even if it's in small quantity to fill his stomach like crackers or a fruit or a fresh vegetable, it wouldn't aid even lead to its helpfully significant alternative even the genesis of spending once on the holidays without holding grudges even demonstrating eagerly agitated their misery, ire or otherwise even worse. Amplifyingly bittersweet fury. The blonde didn't have any vicious intentions of ruining Christmas or any other holiday, in order to wickedly aggravate and diminish the celestially gilt chances of repairing her toxic relationship with the former man of the cloth. She wasn't very fond of beholding her former lover starving himself and sticking to the bad habits of drinking his morning coffee on empty stomach, interpreting truly the process of skipping one of the most important meals that may be ruefully responsible for his health condition in future if it's monotonously repeatable. Briefly the breakfast's exclusion from his daily schedule.

"What do ya suggest to do after breakfast and finishing our coffees, Timothy?" Shortly after pronging her very first bite and recurringly munching until it was eventually swigged and savored its scrumptiously welcoming, exquisite savor, lacing hospitably her oral caverns, pearl teeth and tongue lastly, the blonde manifested her egg-greased smeared cherub, chapped lips to craft the inquiry, begging for an immediate vouch.

"To bake Christmas sweets and cookies!" The suggestion that the younger gentleman cordially dropped promptly whilst teasingly, mischievously soft pinching incessantly his son's button nose and well-sculptured, ghostly pale cheek and then replacing the non-verbally gauzy, tender touch with pecks as his naturally baby-pinkish, cherub lips browsing the satinly alabaster, lavish facial skin. "Even if I'm not the big-shot in baking, at least that's something productive and I'm still learning."

"I really like that idea." A vague, frankly jovial smile etched ticklishly the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer's mouth shortly after munching fully her first bite from her breakfast dish. "It will bring us as family, ya know! And driving a hard bargain about everything ya just said. Because I'm also still learning just like you, howsoever, in different spheres!"

"Everybody does even if they nastily screw up." At the moment, the former pious holy man snatched with his solely free hand his plain oyster-white mug of caffeine liquid to sip hedonistically gracious of it and then leave it aloof on the kitchen table, consequently the coffee brown liquid set ablaze his energy and ebbing off its grogginess that once austerely, diabolically settled into his organs, muscles and bones.

The haphazardness of the rowdy hum of the front door tingled alarming tones into the trio's ears as the Bostonian almost choked on the second bite of the poached egg, swaddled warmly, cozily in her oral caverns and her humid tongue sponging its perpetually frittered meal chunks, whereas Timothy managed to bounce the young boy incessantly even rock him to peter out his chariness to the front door's ringing tones daringly infernal noise sending its verbal, skeptically troublous waves to dash into his eardrums momentarily.

Little did the small family know who was behind the front door and due to the worrisome message's convey and assimilated as cue by the British aristocrat who was utmost assertive, daredevil to open the front door in his own risk due to an uninvited guest rooming the porch for a handful of minutes.

Fortunately, Edward Ralph's huge, expressively rotund jewels didn't ignite its fiercely savage gilt flames of his forthcoming apocalyptical phenomenon. Namely bursting out bawling his eyes off like every baby that has confronted any uncomfortable or disquieting scenarios to glimmer past his vision and rail through its cells to dwell nonchalantly eerie into his train of thoughts with its austerely disquieting vagons, apt to tandem its choir.

Cherry hue darkened the former lovers' parchment complexions, whereas the middle-aged lady's heart pulsations rapidly rabid accelerated apt to tandem its waltz of violent scrunching in her ribcage.

"Whoa! That's spine-chillingly unexpected."In a long minute of sluggish munch of the unceasingly shattered egg chunks and then swigging greedily delightful, the former nun dumped the silver fork and knife in her plate and venturing her orthodoxly dainty, exquisitely paly fingers sternly firm grasping her sweater's smoothly woolen fabric to sense the true motion of her frequently vigorous heart beat, thudding against her palm after pawing silkenly her chest. "Hopefully there aren't cops or those kids to carol us!" Despite the fact the Bostonian didn't possess even modicum of hatred towards the children, in fact, she's genuinely down with the symptom of living a lie for a few decades to her infertility and barren emptiness and cordially coveting and rotting to have a new addition to her heritage and somebody to love even more than the love of her life even cherish its precious life and teach it altruistically wise, her recent humor was spending her first Christmas out of the nefariously old, dilapidating mental hospital instead of interacting with other living beings that weren't even part of her inner circle or at least she didn't feel a cordial closure with them as well.

"I better check who's on the door."

"Probably the mail guy or those annoying kids with the Christmas carols." Meanwhile, the former religious man of the cloth manifested to lift up his rear from the wooden chair and lingering its dotingly secure, paternally promising scoop of his son on his way to dash out of the kitchen and unlock in a single click the door until the vista of no uninvited visitor straightforwardly greeted the former holy priest.

"Huh?" When his chocolate brown optics landed on the sunflower yellow door rug, embroidering its letters elegantly 'Welcome', throughout an untouched, unfamiliar lily-white message motionlessly sitting on the porch drew his attention cheerfully urgent, whilst his little cherub angel lulled gracefully inward the series of coos and babbles, adorably, featherly-soft fanning his biological father's ear shell.

"Dada!" Absent-mindedly blatant, childlike stilling his mouth wrapped around his plugged pudgy thumb to savor its spongy dew, exuberantly ticklish his flesh once Timothy leaned down to pick up the unopened message and then set foot inside the two-story mansion's interior by shutting the door behind him without thinking twice even locking it up and unwrap the message whose sender's identity was sheerly oblivious for him, whilst wedging his plump lips into a thoughtful, careful purse to indicate his drastically aroused interest to discover not only the sender of its bolt from the blue sheet of paper, further analyze and assimilate each word, each sentence and each paragraph paged up on the blank with its ink glittering past his smoky quartz minerals.

**Hello Timothy!**

**I was wondering how your life is going after not only being charge of that mental hospital in Boston under the name Briarcliff, but also resigning from the church and having a fresh start nowhere else than Hartford, Vermont.**

**I genuinely miss you as it's not the same to have such an extraordinary, dearly long friendship we had even partnership during your priesthood. I can genuinely recall how during our short break from the mass, we both went together in a retro cafeteria, bringing the good old 1958. We spent like an hour talking to each other even discussing crucially intriguing topics that were even evolving our contemporary world.**

**Even if it's not the same without you to partner up with other priests and nuns, I fairly respect your decision to be focused on your life and each joy involving your true felicity. I truly respect how you would rather alter your life from the priesthood to the parenthood and enjoy each spark of the life, because that's the essential purpose of every one of us, although I can still feel God calling me and seeking my advice and help to be part of the spiritual purification of each wretched soul.**

**If I had somebody I sincerely love from the bottom of my heart, no matter if it's a nun or just a mere woman that I've often interactions with even with her participation in the mass's audience, I'd leave everything for the life I'm being offered to spend the rest of my days. You're indeed lucky and that's why I genuinely admire you for anything that constructs your character.**

**Wishing you the best and prosperous future**

**From Kellan Teagan**

As soon as the paged up pitch-black ink with its magnificently majestic manuscript enchase each letter, each word, each sentence and each paragraph shimmering uniquely after spending a few minutes perusing warily everything which Father Kellan has poured his entire heart to not only write for his old friend they knew one another since Timothy's arrival not only in Boston and finding the exact church to dedicate his vows and headstrongly continue his career as a clergyman, further, it's been several months since the both gentlemen have beheld one another. The last time when they had the humongously celestial opportunity to beheld each other was in St. Andrew's church as farewell when Kellan Teagan planned emphatically to flee Boston for Hartford.

Notwithstanding the bare, unconditional homesickness plaguing the British compatriot and overwhelmedness conveniently adapting to his hurricane of thoughts, freezing its lastly functioning cells, the sweet, alluring coes and babbling of the three-month-old infant emptily roomed his ears and tingling its majestically serene ode. Electrifyingly blowminding goosebumps bountifully marvelous perforated gradually his delicate epidermis beneath his cozy pyjamas outfit.

The former pious sister of the church gravely knows Timothy's old friend and they have bartered mutually galore of times for a handful of minutes prominently meaningful, logical even casual conversations at times.

A bizarrely sunny, radiantly buoyant smile adapted to the former holy man's mouth and flexing his attractively sharp jaw, whilst a heavy sight fiendishly tiresome conjugated his muscular, toned chest and pumping its fresh oxygen to course through his nostrils.

"Kellan Teagan! I miss you too, my dear friend!" Diligently modest, mellifluous whisper crawled daredevil of his naturally pale-pinkish, brim lips and retiring to ascend the stairway to the second floor as his notoriously resilient, stealthy footsteps muttered against the wooden material.

\- End of Flashback -

\- Four Hours Later or So -

When the train for Waterbury arrived abruptly on the train station, subsequently Martha spent a tiresome journey to the other part of Vermont, in order to behold her uncle and pay a visit to him in the Vermont State Hospital. During her almost three hour voyage to Waterbury, the medical student decided to kill her time in spending a half an hour reading her medical book and shortly after the boredom fogged her mind sinisterly unavoidable, unimaginable, thus Martha spent the rest of her train voyage in cat napping to collect sufficient nutrients and rest until the train stopped on its impending stop.

Once the train's impending stop unambiguously ventured on Waterbury's train station and the passengers along with Martha earned the utmost announcement about their dream destination's arrival at last, consequently the young woman fled the vehicle after gathering her luggage and opted to orientate via asking one of the strangers to aid her with orientating her to the ill-famed, old mental hospital as within less than a half an hour Martha found her own way to the facility, warily following her served instructions.

Midnight slowly bled into the eve of the new day and became a victim of the nocturnal doldrum's lullaby, the grandiosely wonderful architecture of the old asylum bewitched the brunette's cinnamon brown embers imbibing the overprotective shadows roaring through the façade's fascinating structure. The frequently dull long, ever-lasting choir of whispering footsteps against the ground even when Martha set food inside Vermont State Hospital's interior and the security guards gentlemanly allowed her to make her own way inside the façade without even halting her at the entrance.

"Thank you, gentlemen!" Manifesting a bob of her head to express her enormous, fashionable gratitude, she flashed them a prim, vaguely kindhearted smile.

A long minute of hesitancy to earn any instructions from one of the passing staff members in the lobby bitterly paradoxal spiked her bones to quiver and fidgeting her weathered, elvish hands when she approached one of the nurses that looked approximately a decade her seniors at least.

"Excuse me, ma'am!"

"Good evening, miss! It's already midnight and the patients are asleep." Sternly emotionless, lukewarm undertones remarkably memorable, cold-heartedly forged with its sea of vowels and syllables the middle-aged nurse's reprimand which begun with amiable politeness descending into authoritative reminder, conveying its authentically exceeding cue to the infamous serial killer's daughter the inmates have already drifted off asleep thoughtlessly. "What are you actually looking for?" The piercingly menacing glare acutely pronged the brunette's blamelessly glossy glint of harmless intentions, alight by her cinnamon brown optics.

"I would like to see my uncle. His name is Sebastian Gray." Opting to not demonstrate any wee, surreptitious inkles of demonically inescapable, tangy fear sketching her youthfully beautiful, dainty facial attributes, whilst licking greedily her cherub lips, a heavy, jadedly dry sigh flushed the other woman's chest due to her recent visitor's murderous mulishness and most of all, barely having any intentions of giving up and fleeing the madhouse's building until she didn't pay a visit to Sebastian for a handful of minutes nonetheless.

"Look what, miss! You can come here by tomorrow but the patients are sleeping and they wouldn't like to be disturbed especially your brother is collecting relevantly heinous narcosis," In the meanwhile, the juvenile lady's fidgety, weathered elvish hands fashioned deftly into balled fists and shot a quick, surreptitiously execrable glance at the lobby's outskirts, fathoming the lacking human presence seconds before ascending the stairway slyly to find on her own the ward and behold her childless uncle for a few minutes. "You don't have any idea how his mental illness is detrimentally imperiling the staff members with his moody attitude if you're still questioning why he's sedated."

"Such a nasty woman!" Charging to pummeling humdrum with her balled fists even bumping ferociously savage into the older woman's taller figure as she thumped and reclined against the payphone , reciting in murmur the hostile hiss, rolled into venom and sugarcoated prominently with heartlessness when the medical student dumped the injured staff member and dashed upstairs in no time and thoughtlessly as horde of security guards and orderlies exceedingly furious amplified to charge to catch the young lady and throw her out of the facility during their pathetically woeful attempts. "Shit! The freedom is more loved than shark love blood!"

"Catch her! You mustn't allow her to enter in the ward!" The multi-voiced symphony of security guards breathlessly darting to catch Martha, subsequently the urgent alarm tone hummed ear-splittingly as the enormous mass of asleep inmates came to their senses and commenced gathering into compact groups to storm off freely, carelessly the expansive room, whereas Sebastian registered his curled into balled fists hands to knead his groggy jewels.

The suddenness of the pushed double door of the ward caught off guard the middle-aged gentleman, attempting to readjust his posture and sluggishly protracting ruthlessly careless his bulky, muscular arm, whereas his dark minerals darted to the current visitor for his own surprise was his niece.

"M-Martha?"

"My goodness, uncle! What the hell they've done to you?" Shortly after scanning fleetly with her peripheral stare the whole room, thereafter the younger lady hunkered down to scoop in the palms of her hands the middle-aged man's well-carved, feeble cheeks and surveying in a scrutiny his parchment, elderly young-looking face whilst refraining the heavy rain of salty tears to bead timidly, coyly her lower eyelids and brushing with her brittle knuckles the generous layer of thick, wonderfully lustrous perspiration, veiling fabulously his forehead and nipping at the delicate skin of her bottom lip.

"They doped me and those little bitches are the reason why I'm rotting here," Leaning down to press an affectionately delicate peck on her uncle's cheek, the young lady was all ears to Sebastian's heartening revelation what the staff members' crude methods of treatment of the inmates, swallowing hard while the young woman tried her best to collect sufficient quantity of oxygen during her brief rest of her restless journey to rescue Cayden's older brother. "Where are these bruises coming from? Those bloody brats?" Protracting one of his feeble, meaty fingers to track the beginnings of bruises mapping the medical student's porcelain, unblemishedly refreshing complexion tore off Sebastian's heart on thousand of glassily invincible fragments and questioning yet who's the criminally bloodthirsty perpetrator of harming his niece.

"No! We don't have enough time to earn the answers we're looking."

"Stop right there!" At the moment, a horde of security guards entered inside the ward as a few of the patients who remained in the site either shrugged or glassily imbibed the entire scenario of the duo plotting their inevitable escape from the asylum as Martha aided her uncle to straighten his posture from the single bed by unwrapping its oyster-white, pristinely sheer duvet from his big-frame and scampering agitatedly towards the other part of the site's double door to flee the vicious claws of the staff members that were after them.

"It's time to go! The window is our last hope."

"If you're thinking the escape is possible, you will eat my hat!" When the duo ventured in the other part of the profoundly long, austere dark corridor of the second floor, the only true path to their escape was jumping out of the window with their entire stamina and strength, overlooking the bloody scars, scraps and bruises that will tint their garments and vulnerable skin.

"Waaaaah!" Once the pairing hopped out of the monumental window after their figures stubbornly bumped into the flimsy weight, thus the young lady's wet, strawberry-coloured tongue elaborated a hysterically victorious, notoriously screechy wail pitching the urban background.

**Author's Note: That's eventually the 30th anniversary chapter of Wings of Light's existence not only being available for read, but also as a fandom! **

**What are your thoughts on Timothy and Kellan Teagan's friendship? Do you think Timothy hides any secrets from Jude about Kellan? What are your predictions for Martha and Sebastian's sudden escape from Vermont State Hospital?**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts as always and comment not only your favorite moments from this chapter, but also its book's development and your top favorite chapters and why they're actually your favorite. Don't be shy and I'm sick and tired of people of keeping their opinions for themselves! I hope you genuinely liked and enjoyed this chapter! :)**


	31. One Bite At A Time

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"Of course, you are not weak, Martha! You aren't all alone dealing with the person who is not only your father, but also the actual murderer of your mother Clementine. Don't ever forget who's trying to eliminate the family he thinks he wants to protect from his foes as he brought himself each trouble!"

"S-Satan! I'm surprised what I'm even doing with loving a parent who murdered brutally my own mom. Why I'm loving him when I'm presumed to despise him to the depths of my bones for...for punishing me to have only father instead like the other kids, you know, a loving mother and father next to them? Why my father punished my mother with the death, itself?"

"Sebastian Gray's younger brother!"

"Mister Cayden Gray, right?"

"It's not called shit. My sister Anna is seriously on fire about the Beatles."

"I was just kidding it's shit! Good for Anna! She's pretty awesome person when I met her personally."

"Due to the fact, there are boiling feelings inside me, that doesn't cease what ya said as last words! There are always opportunities to work on everything and to harmonize everything if only we want it. For example, there were patients that bugged me off to bones, but that doesn't change what the devil would want if it was living inside me. The evil would want me to be a shameless murderer, despite his strength to keep me against my will of innocence."

"Just enjoy your breakfast and I don't want any bad vibes slipping from your tongue on Christmas! It's Christmas time rather than have a cow day. Shh, shh, shh! It's high time for positive vibes. Look at you, sweet ray of sunshine!"

"Good evening, miss! It's already midnight and the patients are asleep. What are you actually looking for?"

"I would like to see my uncle. His name is Sebastian Gray."

\- 5th of April, 1966 -

\- A Few Hours Later or So -

When the wee hours of the morning blended the great deal of pitch-black darkness consuming the thick, tubby cloak obscured the starless sky from any wee inkling of light to loom either horizontally or vertically, the Michiganian struggled to drift off asleep peacefully, thoughtlessly.

Spending a few hours in her bed and flipping on the other sides to readjust her own position and finding utter comfort for her muscles and bones, it was a fair attempt to creamily, leisurely attain the undeserved insomnia annihilating her very being. It was a challenging night for the young woman to protect on her own the flat she hospitably, altruistically shared with her older brother that was recently, fleetly occupying the Howards' privately owned property nonetheless.

Even though the young woman has experienced plenty of times forlorn nights when her brother's absence in the apartment vividly ghostwrites some of the rowdy neighbours' bickers or the sufficient mass of disruptive young adults or teenagers holding a house party with excessively tolerable loudness of the music they've adjusted, the somewhat common insomnias genuinely chased the blonde and the lurking shadows as her diabolical silhouette surreptitiously, unknowledgeable danced and shared its waltzing motions when her hazelish-brown jewels were casted on the ceiling or shut, obscuring the absolute reality mounting the horizon of her tinted images to draw her attention and perforating squarely, mindlessly.

While the grandiose television screen in Madeleine's bedroom was turned on and switched on the early morning's news channel lowly droned in the sufficiently expansive room, she fled to the kitchen to boil the water in the kettle for a cup of green tea and zapping her mushroom soup. In long three minutes of sheer anticipation for the hot mushroom soup and the freshly healthy green liquid, consequently the young lady pampered herself as she served herself with the mug of healthy green liquid and bowl of mushroom soup on her oak wood night stand, darting her honey brown big, roundish minerals to imbibe each discrete detail of the broadcasted news.

"Earlier tonight two members of the Gray family under the names Martha Gray and Sebastian Gray were hospitalized shortly after their attempt to flee the Vermont State Hospital as results of Martha to help her uncle to not be situated inside the well-known mental hospital." At the moment, the Michiganian manifested to crook her spidery palish, deft fingers around her silver scoop to scoop mouthful of her mushroom soup she has prepared earlier tonight, slowly but surely bestowing with the first bite to lace her oral caverns and tongue when her caramel brown minerals widened broadly, abruptly at the news journalist's exceeding breaking news about the Grays family. The vehement heart pulsations flumping heavily into her flimsy ribcage intensified megawattly headstrong and adrenaline coursing shrewdly through her veins. "The both victims of the high jump from the first floor of the asylum's building couldn't help but be the center of the medical experts' attention due to the both adults' critically upsetting conditions that were screaming for medical help." The suddenness of the juvenile lady itchingly awaiting the healthy green liquid's temperature to diminish within a few minutes, she was utterly focused on the healthy, refreshing mushroom soup and spooning a mouthful of the second bite, immersing the silver surface and the pale, vivid lights of the television screen's jumpcutting scene to the hospital's entrance spine-chillingly spiked stealthily the Michiganian's electrifying goosebumps on her frail epidermis.

"Holy goddamn!" In the interval, Madeleine manipulated after masticating greedily, gamely the second scoop of the soup to measure her breathing as the silverware spoon dunked in the remaining scale of the meal shortly after lowering abruptly the decibels of her Michigan lilt to puncture raspily, unavoidable euphoric the expletive whilst readjusting her folded legs faintly to attempt to find a better, more comfy position while seating in the middle of her double bed. What it candidly nuked the blonde was acknowledging the critical condition of the both members of the Grays after ominously inevitable, brilliantly believing in the karma, foreshadowing eerily the sequence for the intruders whose failed attempts to quench their harmony and peace pathetically equated to their fate which Madeleine strongly leaned to credit astoundingly cunning. Sooner or later after Martha's rueful attempt to accuse the former pious man of the cloth in sexual assault and non-consensual touch of her sensitive body parts, besides Sebastian's fiasco to deliver the perfume efficiently to the Howards, in fact, Timothy's slyness escalated to pretend his character to be somebody else under the name William Davis, graced with the enormous mass of arduous troubles escorting Martha and Sebastian due to their pure, diligent dedication to the nefarious serial killer of Vermont.

"The huge quantity of glass bruises, wounds even dried blood are the eventual aftermaths of the incident earlier tonight and sequencing the both patients to seek recovery in the hospital for a couple of days at least." When Madeleine's pristinely spidery, palish fingers dexterously reached to finger the plain lily-white porcelain mug, in order to test gingerly its current temperature, subsequently she emboldeningly daredevil crooked them to apt to tandem the brace of the mug handle and lifting it up from the nightstand, while the bowl of mushroom soup abided motionlessly careful in her lap. "For the moment, the doctors will urgently take care of the both adults in obnoxiously utmost condition." When the young lady snatched warily the cup of green tea and maneuvering its porcelain material to dip her parted lips in a soft O to grace with better access the liquid welcomingly, tenderheartedly hydrate her organs and wet tongue, the news journalist's Waterbury stern, firm lilt restlessly punctured the recent reports about the incident situated in the wee hours of midnight.

"The job is done." Emitting a hedonistically blatant, ruthlessly uncontrollable slur whilst swigging series of tiny, guiltlessly healthful sips then the juvenile lady left aloof on the night stand the mug and shifted her attention to the unfinished bowl of soup, whilst a blatantly wicked smirk flourishing past her soup-greased roseate, deliciously plump lips. "When you're a bringing a knife to a gunfight your evidence to be candidly obvious for the authorities as you're the first one to take the first step of a case even having the audacity to be caught red-handed for a flagrant slander against somebody to wash your hands with its menacing reputation, don't even try to twist the knife!"

The villainously riotous splinter of the kitchen window caught off guard momentarily the young woman, consequently scooping meekly, humbly the bowl of mushroom soup on the night stand and turning off the television screen in a jiffy. In order to prevent any noise melding creamily, stealthily with the spooky mumble of docile, ardently inquisitive footsteps ghostwriting the carpeted flooring of the bedroom on Madeleine's way to flee the bedroom and retrieve the letter opener from the dressing table of the hallway shortly before retiring to the kitchen and honing up her petite, vulnerable ears to detect any foreign, bitterly virulent sound of the intruder interrupting her lonely time in the wee hours of the early April's morning.

"What's this bitch thinking can do when I'm armed with a letter opener and a phone to call 911?"

Once the young flower store saleswoman retired to the kitchen with fashionably twisting the door knob humbly, shyly to peer through the small gap who have might broken into her property audaciously, throughout the Michiganian set foot in the kitchen and shot a fleet glance at the familiar tall figure, viciously glazed with nocturnal shadows pebbling the opulence of thick onyx mantle swathing exquisitely his bulky anatomy standing before the broken window while shoving his mammoth, stiff veiny hands into his slacks' pockets to diminish the chances of detection, in spite of the woeful attempts begetting the obviousness examined in the corner of the younger lady's eye when her utter focus landed on the brick and the sea of wee, flimsy glassy fragments of the cracked pane.

Cold-blooded ire palpitated into her petite frame and furious adrenaline coursing through her veins and muscles how just because of the vicious, infamous serial killer who was one of her worst foes would be the essential motive of hers to spend a handful of hundreds of dollars on a new pane of her window.

"Do not grin, you psychotic bastard!" Meanwhile, the young lady registered to hunker down to studiously, attentively examine in a scrutiny the trivial, discrete details, sequencing the aftermaths of the partly broken furniture that naturally mirrored the magnificently monumental vista of outdoors and the cusp of indoors and outdoors altogether, whereas her honey brown huge, emotionally rotund minerals glazed a scintillating glare at the middle-aged gentleman's vibrant grin, curving his naturally baby-pinkish, cherub lips into the balefully wide ivory enamel, swathed with light-hearted layer of nicotine-grease embellishing his surprisingly firm teeth, grasping even tighter the letter opener in her grip ominously. The vigorous heart pulsations resiliently jaunty drummed in her flimsy ribcage and hammering into her ears due to the hasty adrenaline fantastically crystal blending with the embarrassingly unspeakable tension of the ambience. "What the hell do you think do you want from me?" Stilling her northern lilt authoritatively puncturing her posed question while straightening her posture promptly to approach the partly broken window, the baleful, rueful nonchalance kindly resonated her undertones to commingle calmness and egregious menace which didn't even mortify and triggered a quiver begrudgingly the ill-famed psychopath's bulky muscles to choir. "Your whorish daughter and your bastard brother are finally imprisoned in a hospital for recovery. Huh?" Huskily rusty, mellow chuckle flexed Cayden's Adam's apple when he muffled the buoyant timbre of his mirth, lingering the light-hearted texture ingraining his yet charming facial attributes. "You think it's funny that your daughter and brother are sharing a hospital room together even earlier your brother was institutionalized in an asylum, because of me and my girls?" Folding dramatically cold-blooded, emphatic her lean arms across her chest to alter her current stance, narrowing her thin, elegantly feminine eyebrows. "I didn't know your family's tragedy is no laughing matter!"

"Drop the letter opener!" Grimly authoritatively raspy caution cooed alarming tones into the younger lady's petite ears when Cayden ordered her to disarm herself.

"How do you think I'll drop it, in fact, I need something to protect myself in case if somebody attacks me? Or what about the wee cases of burglars even though I still don't know if you're like them or just pretending to be like them?" The suddenness of rhetorically sardonic enquires sailed out of Madeleine's venomously serpentine tongue tip, sharpening her caramel brown embers to imbibe the very figure of her foe. "Cayden, I know your teeny-weeny game! You are expecting me to follow Judy's steps how it happened on your first date with her."

"The letter opener, dumb blonde!" Blatantly increasing the decibels of his accent spotlighting his authoritatively antagonistic, ambiguous admonition to disarm her in possibly the most harmless way instead of attacking her non-verbally, whereas a jaded, heavy sigh bubbled deftly from her tiny, flexible nostrils articulating her inflammatory ire and nausea submerging the pit of her stomach at diligently unprotesting to follow the Italian compatriot's instructions to elude any kinds of trouble and unforgivable consequences.

"What kind of gentleman you're actually, Mister Cayden Gray? Calling blatantly a lady dumb in the possibly nastiest way just to indulge your growling ego of abhorrence and hunger for revenge and power?" Inclining rabidly lissome a thin, dark eyebrow when the razor-edge incredulity profusely etched her young-looking, stunning facial attributes. What it savagely revolted the flower store saleswoman was namely the Italian compatriot's intolerable, complacent vainglory for downgrading the equality as general population's opposites they're eventually. "Did you call your dear daughter dumb, fugly or whatever pops up in your mind to be such a misogynist?" At the moment, the older gentleman registered to modestly, solemnly shake his head, reaffirming categorically his façade's position. "The misogynists are such nasty liars as you buttered Judy up once just to make her biting the bullet of what kind of a psycho you're and turning a blind eye to the one of a kind disgrace you're for your family and for everybody living in Hartford. Instead of insulting each other, you better leave my apartment before the cops are being called in the right time." Grappling firmly, iron-willedly her lean, satin biceps when her youthful, sly calmness spotlighting exquisitely her parchment complexion brightly bleak contrasted to the unbelievable, unamusing vexation nuking the pit of her stomach and erupting the incredible cataract of lava overflowing her blood boiling viciously, amplifying her stark tolerance for the middle-aged man.

"I'm not here for your wet behind the ears games of talking, Maddie!"

"Then what do you want?" Clearing awkwardly gruffy her throat whilst attempting to muffle the rustiness in the cleansing process, the incredulity apparently evocatively depicted the real portrait of Madeleine's confrontation whose antagonists in her own story conveyed the cue of dubiousness to be assimilated by her.

"Since you mentioned Martha and my brother, I'm strongly guessing you acknowledged that thanks to the news."

"I fairly do! And what business you have to spill the tea about them?"

"I know you hate me as much as you do both of them, however, I don't feel any longer closure with my daughter even my brother."

"What are you saying?"

"She's such a sluttish disgrace to this family." Lingering her leanly silken arms crossed across her chest, a compound of brilliant incredulity and nonchalance rancorously feuded for domination to sketch her parchment, freshly young-looking face. In spite of Cayden's low-spirited revelation, puncturing his momentous resentment towards the incestual relationship that potently, doubtlessly waywardly bonding Sebastian and Martha that were in the other part of Vermont, the Michiganian's acute discernment confronting the inescapable dilemma of either even granting modicum of belief in her worst foe's word which his tongue pelt up to the recent moment or on the contrary not even being all ears. "She's pregnant with my brother's baby."

"W-What?" Resilient panic prominently jimmying her mumble, elaborating the inquiry, meantime, the begrudging unclasp of the letter opener from its tight, ominously unyielding grip and the fiercely hair-rising clink of the steel edge whispering rowdy against the carpeted flooring clouded the sheer, brassly misty oblivion for the juvenile blonde. "I have never had such case of incest as experience, not gonna lie."

"You don't need to so that to blame somebody why their creations are possessing homogeneous traits. I was betrayed. I was being lied to." The haphazardness of the sarcastically vile, heinously raspy snicker, half-heartedly illuminating Cayden's sarcastic, fake glee unmasking his soar, bittersweet obscene and betrayal of Martha and Sebastian's controversial bonding when the Michiganian managed to adjust her arms' position and uneasily crooking them fluently to peak to her pelvis. "Most of all, I didn't know they were hiding such vicious secrets as a late night storm with its tempest of growling thunderbolts shaking the ground and salty heavy rain translucently glimmering the candidness of how parallel to the reality they're." Enormous, salty lump seethed the younger lady's fleshy throat, constricting its delicate muscles and strong-willedly insisting for its release, when she maneuvered her averagely-sized, fashionably peach pink lacquered fingernails to reach for her scalp and gingerly dragging her claw to flinching delicately, whereas unnervingly and huge ball of nausea, enveloped in sinful discomfort crawled beneath her lower abdomen and swaddling frostily her muscles.

"You know I've never being fond of them or at least having some sort of like for your daughter and older brother, howsoever, I think that's a bit too much with that incest."

"Per se," Suddenly Madeleine registered to wedge her naturally nude pink, lusciously plumpish lips in a thoughtful, attentive purse indicating her ambiguous intentions readable past her features, while Cayden truly, slyly detected her very leeriness and quizzically quirking a dark, masculinely thick eyebrow. "That's not a decent example for granting a new generation to be full of sparkling potential to be its own of a kind."

"It's blood-curdlingly disturbing."

"I've to fairly second it, Maddie! But you've to blame it on them."

In a long minute of megawattly intensifying hush settling cozily in the adequately maintained proximity the both adults traded mutually, the jaded, glassy stares pronging one another's outstanding facial features merely tippling discreet inkling motion and facial expression's change.

"Are you trying to," Clash of vowels and syllables crucially determined the doldrum's destiny at last with constructing an awkwardly meek, presentable stutter hammering the young flower store saleswoman, hunkering down to retrieve surreptitiously her letter opener in self defense, in case if the Italian compatriot stubbornly attempts to attack her non-verbally.

"What?" It wasn't left unseen the explicitly hazy scenario of the Italian compatriot transfixing his cinnamon brown gems on the young lady arming herself with the sharp object to prevent any physical woes.

"I don't have any time for any uninvited guests. If you just kindly retire back to your mouse hole, I promise you there are going to be no more troubles between us."

"Like what, Miss Madeleine?"

"Bickers, know-it-all debates and messing with anybody between Jude, Frank and Timothy," Half-heartedly gesturing with her letter opener during her dearly malignant, contagiously equivocal retaliation to bash the unfriendly, very presence of the nefarious serial killer and having no intentions of blatantly bland resuming its heated, sophisticated debates that might have an ethereally timeless sequel without a logical apogee to conclude the points of the both sides, besides trying to outsmart Cayden with a solemnly diplomatic consensual promise of not evolving their rivalry in their daily lives due to a sole condition. "Even me! Everything will be fine and you won't whine that either your daughter is a whore or somebody called the cops on you. Just go away!" Mimicking ironically gentle, big-heartedly to the psychopath with wavering her elvish, blanched only free hand, consequently he turned his back and retreated from the balcony of the flat agreeably.

Little did the Michiganian know if her stealthily cunning concept to banish categorically the uncomfortable, distressful presence of the older gentleman played out smoothly and accompanying its very aftermaths gently following its sequence. What she sincerely longed for was not beholding his eerily disquieting face ever again even having any malicious intentions, regardless how humongous or wee they're weighed off on its scales for their actual quantity and indicating his versatile willingness to intimidatingly disturb his own foes.

\- Several Hours Later or So -

When the morning's progress bled into the inescapably phenomenal sunrise and the vibrantly roundish, gilded sun mounting up the baby blue horizon to bountifully steeping Adam's outskirts and living beings with stunningly beaming illumination, pale enough to outstandingly curtain their feature, the Howards woke up slightly after eight o'clock in the morning, due to the fact, it's honeymoon and they had a couple of more days to utterly relax and dedicate their clumsy inertia comfortably descending in their space. The former sleazy jazz nightclub singer had her own friends to replace her as manager or at least coworkers in the flower store, whereas Timothy didn't have any intentions of finding a job yet, due to the fact, his fortune was filthily satiable and could aid them to live the rest of their days drowning in galore of money. Anyway the former aspiring Monsignor's keen enthusiasm to stay at home to take care of Stephen and Edward Ralph during Judy's absence in the flower store even experimenting from time to time with cooking, cleaning and dusting off the furniture and the rooms, besides watering the flowerbeds in the grandiose yard bestowed him with myriad of pleasurable satisfaction to relish his life which he's never being steadfastly sticking to its peculiar daily schedule he's usually following after his resignation from the diocese.

When the small family came to their senses, consequently they brushed their teeth and ordered for themselves a breakfast, besides their little ray of sunshine was breastfed and opting to wean him off sooner than later. As the morning vaguely advanced, the former pious members of the church got ready for the ready lastly and left the desolated hotel, in order to find a nigh church.

Shortly before ten o'clock, the Howards fathomed the small formed hordes of people they were eagerly anticipating for the holy man's arrival before starting eventually the morning mass. It's been awhile since either of the nuclear family has set foot in the chapel.

First and foremost, when the duo set foot inside the chapel as the former licentious jazz nightclub singer scooped and frequently soothing, gingerly affectionate rocked the six-month-old infant to crack his facial expression into a hysterical, wild sob trembling his thoughtless voice, the notorious creak of the recent visitors' knowledgeable arrival caught off guard the huge mass of the visitors, seating motionlessly and reclining peacefully on the lacquered, comfy pews. The sea of discomforting foreign, sharp gawks fixated on the trio imbibed them from head to toes. Even though it was just an amorously adorable vista of a married couple with their six-month-old baby boy scooped in his mother leanly satin, protective arms, somehow the pallid glint glazing the majority of the nobodies' cabochons pinched pure neutrality and arcane awkwardness. Their sudden rowdy and silent chats they exchanged with each other evocatively muted when the incessant bounce of the former nun's lion mane of artistically old Hollywood unruly aureate curls fascinatingly curtaining her healthily ghostly pale façade even when the infant protracted perkily his pudgy hands to snatch violently tender a fistful of rebellious curls to finger and play, escorting reassuringly his babyish impulse and childish inquisitiveness to discover the undiscovered worlds and realms for his worldview. The mid-morning vibrantly scintillating sun streamed profusely golden saturation into the battered, monumentally rotund window and rectangle windows.

What the Bostonian's current outfit was an ordinary sunflower yellow retro dress with short leg of Mutton sleeves and boat neckline partly leaking her delicate milky collarbones and expanse, whilst the lively velvet hem flared slightly above her round, lovely knees, coupled with classy jet-black kitten heels shoeing her petite feet. Additionally the middle-aged lady's outfit articulated a cozy cotton cardigan, enveloping her torso, despite the unbuttoned coif and a silver bracelet bracing her flimsy right wrist.

Whereas Timothy's recent attires obscuring his toned, averagely muscular anatomy were a casual, ordinary denim blue cotton shirt guarding his torso with a handful of undone stubborn buttons, leaking partly his masculinely hairy, appealingly olive-tanned chest, coupled with pair of comfortable pitch-black trousers armoring his lower body and classy, elegant black oxfords. In addition to his recent raiment a wrist watch crooked around his wrist to indicate the uneasily ticking time.

When the Howards seated on the first pew on the left awaiting patiently for the man of the cloth's arrival to deliver his initial sermon for today, the haphazardness of the teasingly ticklish, faint clout of her incessant inward, light inhales and the dust taunting her button nose to sneeze docilely on the other side, evading any humanoid contact to plague with her own bacillus and germs whilst muffling the unhealthy process with one of her elvish, marbled hands. At the moment, the British aristocrat clumsily, lazily iron-willed shoved his pristinely alabaster, meaty fingers in his trousers' pocket to retrieve a clean handkerchief for his wife and handing it to her immediately to blow her nose.

"Bless you!" The blameless politeness of the younger man crooked one of his muscly, strong arms to secure her slim, silky waist when the Bostonian managed to bow timidly her head, evading the shamefaced contact with the nobodies due to the embarrassing sneeze interweaving with the further background noises of nebulous chats the other hallowed building visitors shared with each other.

"Thanks!" Once the middle-aged lady girlishly anxious mildly snorted her tiny, flexible nostrils due to the vague runny nose coating her entrances relentlessly, the British aristocrat yanked gingerly, delicately the young boy into his muscly, protective arms as his brittle lungs unloaded a sharp exhale.

"Here!" A coyly benevolent, poetically vibrant smile decorated Timothy's parchment, healthily fresh complexion when he manifested to hand his wife the clean, oyster-white handkerchief to blow politely, graciously subtle her nose. "Take your time to blow your nose!"

"Thank ya!"

"Mama! Dada!" Protracting blatantly joyous his pudgy, petite arms to cradle in his childlikely chubby hands his creator's sharp, swan curve of his jaw when his hazelish-brown embers boldly glazed the wed pairing, cooing honey-mouthed the fewest words that articulated fluently his actual vocabulary. His baby-pinkish, glossily spongy lips curved into a huge, candidly buoyant grin flexing his jaw.

"I know, honey! We love you so much too!" In the meanwhile, when the older woman curled her spidery alabaster, featherly-soft fingers to adequately fold the handkerchief squarely to blow emphatically, gracefully demure her runny nose, Timothy pressed an affectionately gentle peck on Edward Ralph's forehead seconds before tugging a boldly doting, merry smile at the corner of his glossy mouth.

"Dada!" Even though the former members of the clergy haven't stepped in a hallowed façade since they've fled the notoriously dilapidating, old mental hospital and eagerly looking forward to resume their free lifestyle they're truly graced with, the church atmosphere was far cry from familiar for the youngster, elaborating disquiet, ambiguous whimper.

"Is everything okay, my little prince?" Peppering recurringly his well-carved, childlikely chubby cheeks with series of tender, paternally humble kisses grazing his naturally lactescent, lavish facial skin dedicatedly on reflex to try to comfort his son, factly, Timothy's potent, adamant instincts and crystalline punctuation detecting instantly his son's unfamiliarity with the sacred community. "What's wrong?"

"Nah!"

"Come on! You can tell me what's wrong. I'm finely aware of the atmosphere might be not with the same people, due to the different locations, but I've mustered up with anything associated with the religion and the sacred."

"Dada!"

"Everything is alright! The church is promisingly friendly and harmless community." Then the former holy priest's pristinely feather-soft fingers traced gingerly his son's swan curve of his jaw until his pale fingertips peaked to finger and tease mischievously daring, lovingly the beginning of his featherly-soft crispy, chestnut hair, transfixing his coffee brown optics on the amiable section prominently strong glinting the youngster's facial attributes unmasking his actual chubby profile. "It's a community of interacting not only with other people that are religious like us, but also with God who secures us with His very sacred light. He's pretty aware of our woes and joys. Just like the vices and vows." When the former devotional woman of the cloth politely, presentably folded the lily-white, snotty-stained handkerchief and shoved it graciously surreptitious in her cardigan's pocket for eventual future cases of sneezes and runny noses, the art of nimbly breakneck glance shot at the empty pulpit and recently knowledgeable very presence of the clergyman whose youthfully gracious, fashionable physique engulfed the enormous mass of visitors' utter focus targeting his tall figure. "He's always watching us and in always troubling moments when nobody is presumed to land us a helping hand, he will grant us a second chance to fight the ordeals." Lowering rapidly the decibels of his logically rational monologue clearly explaining to the youngster as kind reminder that the others weren't all alone at all in the very presence of Father Ewan Fergus Russo, meanwhile, the Bostonian manipulated her elbow kindheartedly, faintly nudging her husband's arm to additionally remind him of Father Ewan's appearance. The tension of fervent heart pulsations' rapidly rabid anomaly hewed the couple's ribcages at the landscape.

Father Ewan Fergus Russo was eventually a man in his early thirties standing 5'10. His leanly muscly anatomy constructed his large frame, slightly smaller comparable to the former aspiring Monsignor. His halo ringlet of jet-black locks exquisitely, coyly framed his round unblemishedly olive-tanned façade, coupled with pair of big, roundish lapis lazuli optics authentically blazing his sheer wisdom and refreshing intelligence, besides uniquely embellishing his attributes and cleanly shaved facial hair. His diligent devotion to the cloth debuted a couple of years ago after regularly fulfilling the process of taking his very first vows and following the proper instructions as first steps to dedicate his very soul, heart and body to God and the priesthood. His emigration in Adams, Tennessee emphatically altered his worldview and chaotic daily schedule after moving out from his birth town Warren, New Jersey after spending a few decades of his childhood, adolescence and the commencement of his young adulthood being raised in a wealthy strictly tremendously pious Catholic family. Last but not least, due to his Catholic family's piousness, thus it aroused his fiery enthusiasm in the religion and increasing the chances of his priesthood's establishment even though he's dated a few times and dedicated his young adulthood stealthily to his university friends' indulging pleasures in the form of cocaine and alcohol.

"Good morning, my dear Children!" Shortly after straightening their postures to politely welcome the dark-haired man of the cloth, whose one of his mammoth, youthfully, healthily veiny hands' fingers braced the rigidly leather covers of the Holy Bible, whereas his other hand's fingers managed to fix smoothly awkward his ecclesiastical collar, flicking up his lapis lazuli gemstones pronging the vista of filled pews of religious visitors for the morning mass, the purely amiable New Jersey lilt spotlighted Ewan's gentleman politeness articulating his sacred language's fluency. The monotonous frequency of his masculinely docile footsteps whispering against the wooden podium and stepping before the oak wood pulpit, he ushered his wet, strawberry-coloured tongue to lick greedily his nude pink, deliciously plumpish lips. "It's another good morning to pray our hearts in the name of the Lord and the light. Isn't that right?" The stout, headstrong hush conveniently settled in the chapel's interior, while the pure provocation of a facial expression's change of Ewan's fleet grin decorating his face to a benevolently sympathetic smile permeating past his naturally nude pink, cherub lips, thus he quizzically mischievous raised an arch of his eyebrow, lowly humming in the audience's silent response encouraging him to deliver the sequel of his monologue. "We better get started with the morning prayer out loud before jumping into the important part of our daily moral topics evolving our mindsets and world."

All of a sudden, everybody lifted up their rears from the polished, convenient pews to fluently silver-tongued, creamily escort the New Jerseyan's half-hearted, nonchalant chant of the prayer and either knotting their fingers to recite rowdy the prayer or on the contrary meagerly fashioning their paws.

"Father in heaven, king of glory, we adore your name and work to glorify you forever. It is through your will that we are alive," Some of the sacred façade visitors' claws meekly held the holy book and timidly bowing their heads, diligently sticking to the prayer's effect. "And healthy today. Your Grace has allowed us to converge together. You have promised that whenever we call on your name, you will hear and answer us." The great blend of the morning honey-mouthed, elating birdsongs suffusing the chapel and the multi-voiced symphony of recite of the prayer tingled the extraordinary composition of untouchable, invincible serenity. "Come into our midst, God, and have fellowship with us. Make your blessings abundant and grace us with your presence. From the start of this meeting to the end, glorify yourself and accept our prayers." Heavy sighs flushed the former members of the clergy's nostrils after peaking to the apogee of the prayer, whilst the little boy's cinnamon brown embers ignited fierce wildfire of uncertainness when the holy man emboldened the nobodies along with Jude and Timothy chanting the hallowed declaim smoothly circulating its cataract of wisdom and warm comfort. Little did he know the genuine notion of the prayer and it is efficient aftermaths sequencing dauntlessly every person that has spent a couple of moments to grant themselves a sacred safety verbally either in the morning, the noon or the evening. Anyway the infant somehow comprehended the context of his father's rationally simple explaination he owed to Edward Ralph's uncertainness a few minutes ago about the foreign, odd atmosphere looming past the six-month-old toddler's bones and spine-chillingly violent throbbing paradoxal paroxysm into his frail muscles of unfamiliarity with another undiscovered world for his worldview. The church. "Amen!"

"Amen!" The multi-voiced ode humbly made the Sign of the Cross gesture along with the New Jerseyan momentarily shortly before retiring to recline on the convenient pews again.

"First and foremost," The haphazardness of the cocksurely raised colossal, creamily milky hand of Timothy gamely sheened Ewan's attention when his uniquely northern lilt elaborating the stammer taunted his front ivory teeth to bit the sensitive spot of his berry-coloured tongue, whereas his heart raced promptly. "Yes, ma'am? You would like to speak on this podium for the others?"

"I've a couple of words to articulate in an important topic."

"Excellent! Come here, my child!" Ushering encouragingly hospitable with a hand to embolden the former religious holy woman to deliver a speech on a remarkable moral topic in the mid-morning and stepping aside to gift the middle-aged lady with sufficient space of adequate proximity, while Timothy massaged mellowly gratifying his lover's dainty shoulder blade seconds before retreating to the pulpit in a jiffy.

"You've my immense support for the blowminding topic you've cooked for the visitors."

A minute of silence utmost unnerved the middle-aged woman when she retired from her seat with peppering her husband and son's cheeks with series of tender, angelic kisses before stepping before the pulpit, measuring her own stark patience in a corpulent sigh syncing with the vehemently sharp thud into her petite, vulnerable ears. It's been a handful of years since Judy has stepped on the pulpit to declaim a rationally vital moral topic, although her iron-willed will of sorting her chaotic mind in no time shortly before the awkward lurch of vowels and syllables heinously hungry clashing for dominance while sponging the beginning of her tongue. Swallowing sluggishly the thickness in her feminine Adam's apple, the Bostonian's classy kitten heels disruptively murmured against the ground when Ewan's ocean blue depths quaffed agreeably the older lady.

"I know this topic has nothing to do with the religion, but it has to do with our moral and value system as every one of a kind sinner seeking God's helping hand, holy light and offered second chance for a persistent battle with our hardships." Initially Jude's Boston lilt prominently spiked her fluency when the prologue segment tingled smoothly each chapel's visitor along with the New Jerseyan, himself. "First and foremost, leaving behind yar family and focusing on something more crucial like career, other lovers that toxically spoil yar marriage is like adding insult to an injury, you know! It's a sin to cheat on somebody even veiling the lie prominently in its cloth of sugarcoated innocence and impossible detection of the truth." The beehive of eagerly, artistically inquisitive orbs seeping through the physique of the former licentious nightclub singer's brilliant wisdom honed their ears and happily animating her boldness to essentially conjugate the other separate segments of her monologue. "As an ex-nun who was raised in a nuclear family with a single mother working a handful of jobs to provide for me and herself, my father left us when I was barely five years old. Yeah, his ongoing pleasures of the free lifestyle dominating over the love and the duties of dedication to the family made me questioned why I was never loved or at least sensing the genuine notion of that magnificent feeling that naturally oozes of your heart." An unbearably sweltering curled ball of dim shyness and self-consciousness fractured her lower abdomen, consequently conjugating a nervous gutturally sarcastic, perfectly healthy chuckle darkening her undertones. "I always thought as a little girl that I and my mother were never good enough and why on the earth it happens to us. Well, here's the answer. The criminally sinful people like my father that are far cry from caring about the family even to bestow with modicum of altruistic support to extend our survival chances even allowing ourselves to be pampered. He thinks it's not a good idea to help his family. He thinks his lovers and his gold digging character will aid him to dig its grave of my mother's tough parenthood. He dug that grave, howsoever, did his lovers loved him back and granted him whatever he yearned for? Did his Genies willed to fulfill his wishes after chanting to their lamps what he actually wanted? Huh?"

During the heartwarming oration, twin chubby celestially crystal tears rimmed Timothy's lower eyelids almost imploring desperately to trickle downward his well-carved, chubby cheeks at the thought of his wife's low-spirited, gut-wrenching gloomy past and the meaningful proverbs and rhetorical inquiries delivered out to the audience that was formed in the hallowed building's interior. A doe, unorthodoxy unglued smile perched upon the British compatriot's pale-pinkish mouth.

"After being through a lot of hardships in the form of heartbreaks, loneliness and salty tears regularly even dark past that is barely shadowed in its mantle of pitch-black darkness to obscure the very segments of my very being, I became a nun. That was some kind of redemption for me to be God's refugee and servant in the same time." The suddenness of reluctant stutters sailing out of the Bostonian's mouth sloppily indicated her outspoken honesty though she managed to gruffily clear her throat, muffling its rusty, husky cough. "I never believed in the true love or at least to find it somewhere in the church. In the very outskirts of the church. All I wanted was a family and I found it after the priest that was in charge of the facility we ran together and he genuinely counted on my experience, intelligence and strictness, there were strong points linking our bond and reckoning the chemistry's potential myriad of privileges even when we are still young." Vividly bright, poetic smile softened the British compatriot's parchment, young-looking yet face promptly at the amicably frank, thought-provoking statement molting his and the other nobodies' flimsy hearts."Due to my coveted wish of having family and at least one child to teach and love, it helped me to diminish the chances of beholding Satan's face once I no longer occupy this world. It was an effective medicine. Anyway getting back to my early childhood when I was a half orphan living in a modest household when my father left us, God was constantly conveying its crucial message that my father will go to hell and he will face his judgmental day the day when he disappears either for better or worse. It will be his lesson to rot in hell after leaving a family behind because of his selfishness to chase corrupted women that could satiate fleetly his physical needs, but how about the spiritual ones? Think about it!" In the interval, the Bostonian's dainty alabaster, creamy hands clawed softly, firmly the wooden pulpit, narrowing her poetically expressive thin eyebrows and squinting up at the crowd outnumbering her, reckoning her husband little ray of sunshine. "I and my husband had galore of tribulations, in order to harmonize everything in our family when we couldn't even stare at one another or at least I couldn't at him for more than a few seconds except irking me the way he shot that gaze or glance at me. I knew so far we had a second chance to harmonize and fix the things. We did it! We still do it! He didn't leave me for another woman when I had tough periods of time to fulfill his needs and the patchy void he's wearing beneath and outside him. Because he wasn't as weak as the other partners do to replace anything that they dearly love and strongly believe the things will be repaired slowly but surely." Gesturing a wavered hand whilst rippling its motion to indicate the wavelet's dance, throughout her front pearly white teeth slammed to nip at the delicate spot of her bottom plump, bloody-red painted lip. "I did the mistake of temporarily replacing him with a man that I believed would be better than him, however, I was completely wrong. It was proved in the manipulative mannerism and excessive flattery I earned smoothly. It was bolt from the blue when I truly fathomed the genuine notion of a difference between a gentleman and a manipulator being capable of foul snow job. It taught me a tremendously utmost lesson. If yar on the verge of moving on in yar life between repairing the impossible- toxic relationship and having potent motives of taking the initial steps of escaping the held grudges and rage; and finding a new love interest that would share similar interests as yours for example, you cannot change the person you once pearly loved. Ya cannot change the others unless yar capable of changing yourself even a little bit at least."

An uncomfortable, frosty hush dazzled the middle-aged lady when the truly consoling, creamy sensation of twin fat tears dribbled thinly its rivulets onto her lower eyelids, thereafter her fingertips reached to daub softly the wee despondent, bizarrely heartwarming drizzle tinging its translucent stream reflecting her non-verbal sorrow. Sharpened knives pronged her throat when an inward sob broke her facial expression, dropping sheepishly her head for a split second to soothe herself.

"What my husband taught me is it's not that yar not good enough to be the change for the others! Ya have to alter yarself before hazardously hopping up in the game, full of adventures and woes! It's really selfish to blame the others why the things ya have built together have collapsed unless they prove how ruefully pathetic they're with unforgiving intentions of the sort of adultery, lies and so forth that harm your relationship. Ya have to love yarself before loving the others as much as you do yourself. You have to be ready for sacrifices, no matter if they're physical or mental. They're the sacrifices that are vividly speaking volumes about you and the bond you're coupling together." In the meantime, the former ambitious Monsignor featherly-soft, attentively bounced and rocked Edward Ralph to warmly soothe him during his wife's meaningfully authentic, analytical monologue dripping from her cherub, brim lips and registering to caress and stroke their six-month-old infant's crispy soft chestnut hair and interweaving its strands tickling generously, altruistically his digits when his pudgy, childish arms braced Timothy's palish neck for support on reflex, clinging dotingly to his toned chest. "No matter how busy you're daily, however, if somebody truly loves you even if they have enough time to take a shower or to make for themselves a sandwich, they will keep in touch with ya. That's called the unblemished love we're everybody seeking its sacred sanctum that is closest to our hearts. Never abandon your families, no matter in what kind of a tough situation yar situated together! Family is all!" Bowing meekly, modestly beside the horde of audience whose tempest of stormy clapping hands rapidly rabid aroused her self-confidence and pleasurable satisfaction of having the chance to lecture even if it's a handful of people on an essential topic evolving each living being's outstanding life. Content smirk tugged at the corner of her lips when she retired from the pulpit and re-sitting on the pew where her compact, preciously extraordinary family awaited her nonetheless, while the juvenile holy man approached the podium, continuously applauding the blonde for her idiosyncratic sapience sweetly, solemnly pounding her utterances and leaving not only Father Ewan, moreover the rest of the nobodies and her husband along with her son memorably flabbergasted to bones.

"I'm so proud of you, my rare bird!"

"Thank you, honey! It wasn't a child's play to deliver out something that's ambiguous even being the core of my inner turmoil with my hesitancy." Pursuing courageously for the younger gentleman's naturally baby-pinkish cherub lips to press a hardening, brief kiss, meantime, the church's interior became a victim of the unspeakably uneven, gruesome lulling silence, comfortably kipping in the corners. "I wouldn't be more grateful to open my heart about such an extraordinarily remarkable topic that affects not only single parents, but also children that feel lonely and unloved by their parents."

\- A Few Days Later -

\- 7th of April, 1966 -

The mid-week became a victim of the slow progress bleeding into the approaching weekend within a handful of days solely.

A couple of remarkably exceeding moments animated in the past few days without a single shadow of doubt. As soon as Madeleine informed the Howards about her partly broken window emanating of the ill-famed serial killer of Vermont and sharing a brief colloquy, instead of earning inflammatory bickers thudding the young woman, the married couple promisingly optimistic emboldened their friend to take care of herself and staying strong, regardless how many confrontations with Cayden she's encountered during the Howards' preciously amorous, romantic honeymoon in Adams for a week. Even though Madeleine paid for the vague damages of her kitchen window, it afflictively agonized to spend a few hundreds of dollars on her glass's repair. Furthermore, she shared the same colloquy with her favorite ladies during the manager of the flower store's absence during their shift in the facility and the response she genuinely covet to earn paralleled to the former pious sister of the church's eventually.

In addition to the former members of the clergy's brilliantly smooth, romantic honeymoon they're having at the moment, they've made love to each other every night and opting to be as quiet as possible if Edward Ralph was either pretending to be asleep or on the contrary was profoundly drowning in the kipping reverie's realm, dwelled out of the absolute reality's raw illustrations. They were regularly fleeing the hotel to discover the majestic magnificence of the small city of Tennessee's landscapes depicting realistically coruscating past their visions and spending less time inside the hotel except for the late nights. They were feeling like their real themselves when they have dedicated solemnly their honeymoon to the nature, love and family harmony just like each newly married couple, seeking in the Mother Nature's bosom its besotted love and unconditional comfort fastening their very essences and bodies, hydrating them with its craved tranquility for solitude from the general population's enormous mass that outnumbered Adam's current inhabitants. It felt like a sweet over the moon paradise.

It has been a handful of days since Sebastian and Martha compellingly critical were recovering from their unspeakably thought-provoking, bone-chilling condition illustrating the opulence of painfully plum bruises tinting their delicate, frail fleshes from head to toes. Anyway their condition's perpetual improvement remarked its utmost upgrade and good news. Further, the incestual pairing haven't had any interactions with the further world even with the ill-famed, vicious psychopath who was namely their solely once beloved inner circle member who didn't want any associations either with his daughter or older brother, due to their subtly plotted concept of their scandalously unimaginable bond the young woman and the middle-aged gentleman traded even were expecting a new addition within a several months solely.

When the wee hours of the afternoon bled into the vibrantly pleasant enormous, rotund gilt sun mounting up the sky blue horizon and bountifully streaming its saturation through the façades' windows and beaming light curtaining palely beautiful their features, Morgan Jill and Andy decided to pay a visit to their severely injured family members in one of Waterbury's hospitals they were eventually hospitalized. In spite of they haven't seen Martha and Sebastian for a long time and having a day-off work for a few days, subsequently they thought it wouldn't hurt them to visit their least harmless family members, factly, they acknowledged thanks to an eerily inevitable phone conversations which was the final one they exchanged with the Italian compatriot about his daughter and older sibling's critically appalling conditions.

A handful of presentably gracious, polite raps on the door caught off guard the medical student who was the only patient that hasn't drifted off asleep, collecting sufficient nutrients and rest throughout the noon hours unlike her uncle who hasn't blinked a single eyelid for an hour at least.

"Come in!" The initial thought of one of the nurses or the doctors accompanying comfortingly discrete crossed the juvenile brunette's hurricane of thoughts, readjusting her posture to find its comfortable recline of her back sloppily supporting her against the mere head board, furrowing her thin, elegantly dark eyebrows to cusp the bridge of her button, dainty nose and flicking her groggy chocolate brown optics at the shut yet door. The absence of nurses and doctors granted myriad of consoling rest for the medical student, in fact, she struggled to fall asleep or cat nap freely, dedicating her paralyzed muscles and cells to the peaceful doldrum interrupted by the uneven, humdrum sync tingle of the heart monitor linking Sebastian's oddly vigorous hammering heart into his torso.

"Martha," In the meanwhile, the Romanian compatriot accompanied by her cousin gently set foot in the patient room labeled 206 on the second floor of the medical institution and the electrician managed to gentlemanly, gracefully hold the exquisitely polished door allowing to his cousin to enter in the site to interact with the nefarious serial killer's younger daughter. "My goodness! What happened?" When a flabbergasted, overwhelmed gasp elaborated the duo, attempting to muffle the relentless megawatt decrease of the decibels puncturing their surprise, consequently they seated on the edge of Martha's patient bed immediately and examining in a scrutiny her severely bruised and conservatively orthodox mauve tinted young-looking complexion, whereas her elvish, unhealthily pallid, white-knuckled hands fashioned into balled fists to rub her groggy, satiny optics for a split second until her vision's haziness petered out drastically in a jiff and enchanting the clear smoothness of her absolute reality's optical illustration.

"N-Nothing!" Playing the pretending game as if nothing has happened whirled and twirled in the juvenile brunette's mind, factly, it dumbfoundingly overwhelmed her since when her relatives demonstrated even modicum of their lethal concerns, disquietude about her critically unutterable condition embodying the medical student's physical and mental agony.

"Don't lie, please! It's amidst the fewest times when we can be frankly kind to each other or at least redeem ourselves."

"Redeem ourselves for what, Morgan Jill?"

"Well," At the moment, the both young adults manifested to snatch gingerly, friendly the younger woman's petite, unhealthily marbled hands into their consoling grip on reflex and kneading their swan thumbs on circles gracing with myriad of altruistically doting comfort, unconditional warmness and murderous love which the ill-famed psychopath's daughter has always longed for from the bottom of her heart. "We haven't seen each other for a long time. You aren't an awful person, Martha!"

"W-What, cousin?"

"You aren't an awful person! Trust me! There's something leery interweaving its elastic strings of your marionette self." Darting her coffee brown optics to scan from head to toes the foreign character of her older brother whom she has solely heard of his name and somewhat of his life, however, never having the sheer, fantastic opportunity to exchange a personal interaction with him and within each blink of her huge, expressively poetic eyes glittering profuse translucently dew layer of sorrow and homesickness to the unfamiliarity and undiscovered family secrets, flourishing a radiantly sympathetic, tearfully vague smile adorning authentically her attributes and quietly sobbing to herself. "It's not your fault at all, Martha! It's not your fault, because you are still young and fresh. Your life experience and knowledge are crying for learning and discovering undiscovered realms and world and you are far cry from unforgivable than your father whom tried to freeze me to death in the fridge," Meanwhile, the timid, girlishly bashful nod of Martha's head in strong agreement for the vividly explicit flashbacks throbbing into her vortex of thoughts at the thought of her young childhood how due to her immaturity her older cousin was on the verge of the life and demise. "You remember?"

"Mhm!" A meek, low hum in approval of her emphatic answer, the young lady couldn't sort her mind for her emotional reunion with the electrician lastly, whose stare pierced hers platonically tender, speaking opulence of emotions in their indiscernible sable pupils blazing the incarnation of their homesickness and desperation for being unable to get to know each other in their earlier lives.

"Martha, Martha," The failed attempts of the older lady's persistence to attract her younger cousin's attention was due to the brunette's utter focus in a much different realm. Much different world. Much different emotional fragment's settlement.

"Andy?"

"My lovely younger sister!" Crooking his satin, protectively muscly arms to brace his younger sibling's upper back and drawing her in his soothingly loving, platonic embrace, the equal sync of their fragile hearts steadily escorted sinisterly one another's humdrum rhythms as the medical student buried her tear-stained, inwardly sobbing complexion in the crook of the electrician's arm and knotting the nape of his delicate neck with her spidery pallid, pristine fingers. "I've always waited for that moment to see you as one of a kind!"

**Author's Note: I'd like to apologize for writing solely one scene with Jude and Timothy per a chapter, but I want to diminish the quantity of words even give also the keen potential the other characters deserve to be spotlighted!**

**Do you fully agree with Judy's speech in the church and what are your thoughts on my personally favorite scene? Do you think Madeleine is capable of avoiding Cayden's manipulations, despite her strong abhorrence? What are your thoughts on Morgan Jill and Martha's controversial relationship as cousins? Did they accomplished the divine atonement or not exactly?**

**Don't forget to leave your feedbacks! I'd like to hear your thoughts on your favorite moments and what inspired you as well! I hope you liked and enjoyed the new chapter! :))**


	32. Good For the Pain

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"Do not grin, you psychotic bastard! "Your whorish daughter and your bastard brother are finally imprisoned in a hospital for recovery. Huh? You think it's funny that your daughter and brother are sharing a hospital room together even earlier your brother was institutionalized in an asylum, because of me and my girls? I didn't know your family's tragedy is no laughing matter!"

"Drop the letter opener!"

"I know this topic has nothing to do with the religion, but it has to do with our moral and value system as every one of a kind sinner seeking God's helping hand, holy light and offered second chance for a persistent battle with our hardships. First and foremost, leaving behind yar family and focusing on something more crucial like career, other lovers that toxically spoil yar marriage is like adding insult to an injury, you know! It's a sin to cheat on somebody even veiling the lie prominently in its cloth of sugarcoated innocence and impossible detection of the truth. As an ex-nun who was raised in a nuclear family with a single mother working a handful of jobs to provide for me and herself, my father left us when I was barely five years old. Yeah, his ongoing pleasures of the free lifestyle dominating over the love and the duties of dedication to the family made me questioned why I was never loved or at least sensing the genuine notion of that magnificent feeling that naturally oozes of your heart. I always thought as a little girl that I and my mother were never good enough and why on the earth it happens to us. Well, here's the answer. The criminally sinful people like my father that are far cry from caring about the family even to bestow with modicum of altruistic support to extend our survival chances even allowing ourselves to be pampered. He thinks it's not a good idea to help his family. He thinks his lovers and his gold digging character will aid him to dig its grave of my mother's tough parenthood. He dug that grave, howsoever, did his lovers loved him back and granted him whatever he yearned for? Did his Genies willed to fulfill his wishes after chanting to their lamps what he actually wanted? Huh?"

"After being through a lot of hardships in the form of heartbreaks, loneliness and salty tears regularly even dark past that is barely shadowed in its mantle of pitch-black darkness to obscure the very segments of my very being, I became a nun. That was some kind of redemption for me to be God's refugee and servant in the same time. I never believed in the true love or at least to find it somewhere in the church. In the very outskirts of the church. All I wanted was a family and I found it after the priest that was in charge of the facility we ran together and he genuinely counted on my experience, intelligence and strictness, there were strong points linking our bond and reckoning the chemistry's potential myriad of privileges even when we are still young." Due to my coveted wish of having family and at least one child to teach and love, it helped me to diminish the chances of beholding Satan's face once I no longer occupy this world. It was an effective medicine. Anyway getting back to my early childhood when I was a half orphan living in a modest household when my father left us, God was constantly conveying its crucial message that my father will go to hell and he will face his judgmental day the day when he disappears either for better or worse. It will be his lesson to rot in hell after leaving a family behind because of his selfishness to chase corrupted women that could satiate fleetly his physical needs, but how about the spiritual ones? Think about it! I and my husband had galore of tribulations, in order to harmonize everything in our family when we couldn't even stare at one another or at least I couldn't at him for more than a few seconds except irking me the way he shot that gaze or glance at me. I knew so far we had a second chance to harmonize and fix the things. We did it! We still do it! He didn't leave me for another woman when I had tough periods of time to fulfill his needs and the patchy void he's wearing beneath and outside him. Because he wasn't as weak as the other partners do to replace anything that they dearly love and strongly believe the things will be repaired slowly but surely. I did the mistake of temporarily replacing him with a man that I believed would be better than him, however, I was completely wrong. It was proved in the manipulative mannerism and excessive flattery I earned smoothly. It was bolt from the blue when I truly fathomed the genuine notion of a difference between a gentleman and a manipulator being capable of foul snow job. It taught me a tremendously utmost lesson. If yar on the verge of moving on in yar life between repairing the impossible- toxic relationship and having potent motives of taking the initial steps of escaping the held grudges and rage; and finding a new love interest that would share similar interests as yours for example, you cannot change the person you once pearly loved. Ya cannot change the others unless yar capable of changing yourself even a little bit at least."

"You aren't an awful person! Trust me! There's something leery interweaving its elastic strings of your marionette self. It's not your fault at all, Martha! It's not your fault, because you are still young and fresh. Your life experience and knowledge are crying for learning and discovering undiscovered realms and world and you are far cry from unforgivable than your father whom tried to freeze me to death in the fridge... You remember?"

"Mhm!"

The prominently authentic, celestially comforting presences of the electrician and his cousin in the hospital room during their insisted visit granted a hope to the young medical student. A divinely aureate halo hovered the young medical student's head invisibly invincible and inundating her with the holy light of unconditional love, wholehearted warmness and longed comfort as if God baptized her in its own holy light, despite the relentless circumstances of wearing the inevitably recurring title of a sinner.

In first place with Morgan Jill and Andy's arrival altered ultimately Martha's hopelessness hazing her very thoughts and gaze. It felt like a heartwarming, frigidly disquieting moment that could alter and compensate years of being nothing than her father's marionette. It was actually speaking volumes and leaking the true colours of its sanctum of changes. It was a medley of sentiments, emotions and facial expressions, greatly melding altogether to form its crafted one of a kind exemplar. The exemplar of the genuine emotional side of a single scenario that was not only strongly stirring, but also possessing the ability to nimbly alter unceasingly the juvenile brunette's life rapidly rabid as if everything seemed much different than just a mere prospect of two inner circle members paying a visit to her and her uncle in the medical facility. Last but not least, Martha has being inspected by doctors with an ultrasound test daubing gingerly her meager bump after scarcely feeling the baby and having the extreme fear of losing it after hopping out of the Vermont State Hospital's window of the first floor that was a handful of feet inching the yard. The results were fatalistically shocking that she hasn't lost her unborn baby yet and the sex of the baby has already leaked, in fact, Martha was expecting a daughter.

Even though Morgan Jill and her younger cousin have exchanged with each other embarrassingly livid moments where their adrenaline fiercely subjugated any other sentiment and emotion pumping into her veins and petite-frame, they have never despised each other and have demonstrated fluently any wee inkling of abhorrence of each other for their different characters and backgrounds. The Romanian compatriot has always kept an eye through the years due to the juvenile brunette's absence in her and Andy's life how her closest relatives treat Martha and how they perpetually affect her attitude and character in general.

"W-Where you have been during all that time?" Quietly sobbing and severely straining her parchment, young-looking complexion with ocean of crystalline translucent salty beads of tears, whereas their heavy, uneven heart pulsations synced the rhythmical tandem , articulating their silver-tongued pulses unceasingly. The pungent scent of medicine, bandages and blood refreshingly steeped generously the site. "I'm genuinely thankful I found you somehow or at least the fate reckoned our prominent union." In spite of Martha's atheism and not sticking to have modicum of belief in the religion, anyway her bountiful belief in the fate's presents seeding its own wights of either surprises or woes never ceased to vanish in the thin air and bring her dose of news about the forthcoming events, regardless their tragedy or heavenly paradise.

"I tried my best to find you where you wouldn't be findable and it was a solemn evidence," A prominently cold-blooded pause stung the searing cataract of doldrum the both siblings exchanged mutually, whereas the Romanian compatriot's naturally roseate, cherub lips managed to thoughtfully purse, scarcely replacing the broad, vibrantly poetic smile embellishing remarkably her parchment complexion. "You weren't there where I would search for you or any remnants of your very presence, Martha!"

In a long minute of resiliently deft silence settling conveniently in the hospital room as the sole hitched breathing fantastically blended with the heart monitor's humdrum indication through its alarming pip jingling alarming tones in the trio's flexible ears, subsequently the both siblings withdrew their figures from the kindheartedly tight, soothing hug.

"Don't worry about me, dear! I'm right there." Pinching widely opened their eyelids, consequently the medical student's dry, strawberry-coloured tongue conjugated clumsily sloppy the wimpish, blatantly stark quiet coo after the persistent clash of vowels and syllables engulfing the fat of her tongue, registering to protract her elvish, unhealthily pallid hands to cup the electrician's well-sculptured, chubby cheeks and offering him a benevolently dim, doe smile, tugged at the corner of her chapped, rosy-coloured lip. "You can see me in a whole view. In a whole view of tower. In a whole view of a landscape. In a whole view of paradise." The trembling, dim motion of her voice reproducing her honeyed whisper tingled angelic anthems into her older brother's ears, pawing boyishly coy her brittle knuckles and transfixing his cinnamon brown big, roundish gemstones on his younger sister's pallid, refreshingly young-looking face, admiring her crispy, dainty facial attributes constructing her facial anatomy and ethereal beauty platonically. "You are going to be an uncle of my little precious right there." In the meanwhile, the brunette snatched violently, forcefully Andy's colossal, reassuringly warm hand to claw delicately, potently affectionate her small bump as his ogle fixated on the bulky abdomen, admiring the overwhelming surprise. "It will be due in November. You have still time to reflect on the overwhelming process how your sister becomes a mother for initial time. Somebody has to be also either the godmother or godfather of this little precious angel."

"I'm still wondering how did you persevere and you are still standing from the ground even after the severe affliction you've stepped its sticky surface and clamming your palms from the ounce of the tribulations, burdening your hands." At the moment, the fashion designer crooked her spidery delicate fingers to tuck a fistful of disruptive, chestnut locks behind her younger cousin's petite, flexible ear on reflex, while mumbling the reassuring ministration of admiring the younger lady's persistent, profound nature for lingering her stamina and strength's versatility and radiance, coupled with dodging the fears and prejudices of chunking ruthlessly reckless to assimilate the genuine notion of the life's fights for her own justice. "I remember how when we're so young just two weeks before Christmas at least, you couldn't stop begging even clashing with me to get back your favourite stuffed animal." The balmy warmness spiking Martha's body temperature mirroring invisibly her actual condition zapped the pit of her stomach and squinting up her doe, harmlessly tearily puffy cinnamon brown optics at Morgan Jill's silver-amber. Cinnamon and silver-amber linking together graciously. Explicitly unavoidable, stormy flashbacks of the both cousins' early childhood dipped the barren surface of their thoughts and thickly, generously deluging the dryness with the myriad of memories pinching their lower eyelids at the frequently tinting scenarios of the casual mid-December day back in the late 40s. "That was nothing compared to the hardships you're being through at the moment, Martha! That was just an infantile action to question your stubbornness to put it mildly. It's extremely apparent how persistent you're and you're about to fight for whatever you believe it's right for you and banish everything that weakens you and doesn't actually impacting its greatly fantastic influence to improve your character and your very own being." The series of featherly-soft, recklessly blatant snores pumping the older gentleman who was deeply asleep on his own patient bed, cozily fizzling his muscles to daub the clean, oyster-white bed sheets and cotton blanket donning his large frame, pitched light-heartedly the site even though the trio managed to evade any interactions or associations with Sebastian's senseless condition.

"I've to second it and your words are indeed encouraging, sparkling its brilliantly crystal star of hope to grant me a little bit hope in whatever I believe." A soothingly sympathetic, tearful smile dawdled to permeate the brunette's pink lips and removing her paws from her older brother's well-carved cheek and hand, gearing the humdrum choir of blinks, pinching her cocoa brown cabochons. "Because I know what I have to do. Sticking to loving myself and the others that really banish the doubts and fleet rumors about me from the nobodies surrounding us and they believe me even without proving a small piece of evidence of the muddy woes." The series of crispy stutters due to the hitched breathing melding brilliantly with the severe, perky heart pulsations throbbing into the younger woman's frail ribcage, while stifling a guttural, blandly amused gasp due to the mood swings' dynamic roller coaster boiling fiercely the myriad of impulsive, healthily normal emotions overflowing her thoughts to assimilate rationally their notion and to ferociously, categorically denuding their true colours. "The people that love me will always believe me even if I didn't do the best or they are leaning to disagree with my decision."

In a long minute of comforting, unruffled silence suffocating devilishly inevitable the grandiose medical façade's walls except the hitched breath, the hysterically rabid heart hammers and the heart monitor indicating the middle-aged gentleman's heart only composed the dull, uninteresting symphony of each patient room's commonly encountered atmosphere. Eerie, yet soothing ambience sprawled profusely electrifying goosebumps pebbling their epidermis. A hush was worth a thousand word a few pages book or essay to depict the realistic illustration of the poetic, esthetic nature and character in each poured paragraph, sentence and word, etched with a thick, sufficient thinness of the etched letter formulating the creator's vivid imagination and bright words saturating the illustration with richer nuances that tinted every reader's vision and chaotic vortex of thoughts who became a victim of the breathtaking authenticity of its author.

"Take these!" All of a sudden, the electrician snatched from his conveniently casual, practical leather jacket's pocket a small magenta velvet box along with a tiny, adorably dark brown plush teddy bear with an embroidered lily-white T-shirt and retrieved his younger sister's wrist to manipulate her palm cupping the handed entities creamily tender, benevolent until she grasped her fingers to ball her presents unknowledgeable.

"Are they really for me?" Hoarsely frank chuckle dripped from her mouth and loosened her grasp to survey in a scrutiny the stuffed teddy bear, broadly spreading her vibrantly content, sunny smile across her nude pink lips, whereas the miniature box perched motionlessly idle on her blanketed lap.

"Yes! A present for you and for the baby," Ushering his wet, berry-coloured tongue to lick greedily his baby-pinkish, cherub lips while Andy and Morgan Jill fixated their friendly fervid gems to contemplate through the translucent sanctum of the medical student's genuine, fascinatingly initial reaction towards her presents by Andy. "Even if I weren't informed about the pregnancy and looking forward to being an uncle, take for granted my very first presents for you as my sibling that takes a special place in my heart platonically."

"T-This is," Casting her childlikely doe, tearily crystalline cinnamon brown depths to drink the majestically delightful, heartwarming vista of not only fingering and playing with the stuffed animal in her scooped grip, further her childishly excessive curiosity to discover inside the velvet miniature box's wee entity with bracing her pristinely delicate fingers to enter the cover, whilst parting her feebly glossy, satin lips in a soft O, bearing a semblance of a marvelously breathtaking, heartwarming illustration of a marriage proposal when the fiancée discovered Pandora Box's paradoxally romantic mysteries. Namely the compact, amorously wonderful proposal ring. "Beautiful! It wasn't necessary at all, Andy! I can't thank you enough for today and the presents." As soon as velvet box's cover no longer swathed the entrance, subsequently a simple artistically fabulous necklace with a crystal moonstone caught off guard and Martha managed to grind her teeth to chew on the inside of her cheek, opting to sort her mind during the breathtakingly elating moment of not only beholding her last hopes she hasn't seen for years, but also being gifted with remarkable items that has Sebastian, nor Cayden haven't given to her since her adolescence. "I don't deserve either of you hospitability."

"The life is too short for regrets and apologies, Martha! Just try your best to overlook anything that hinders you to think clearly and contemplate through the pink curtain of yourself."

"Morgan," When the brunette's wet, berry-coloured tongue struggled clumsily to conjugate a mouthful of vowels and syllables in her impending utterance, the suddenness of crooking her orthodoxy palish, dainty fingers to cradle the simple necklace with moonstone pendant faintly trembled in her grip.

"You deserve the best! Your father took advantage of you. You ain't blamed for anything." Meantime, the older lady maneuvered her elvish, soothingly creamy hands to paw affectionately the brunette's dainty, fragile shoulders when Martha faintly, girlishly ducked her head, barely facing her older brother and cousin altogether. "There's always a hope to start new either today or within five months. It's up to you."

"I lied to the authorities for a sexual assault and non-consensual touch by the ex-priest after I taunted him to catch his attention in such childish way."

"That's forgivable for your lie though you were on the verge of the trouble that isn't strongly recommended for anybody if they don't wish to savor the bullets of the aftermaths of their impulse!" The suddenness of the young man bubbling a sharp exhale from his ribcage pitched fleetly, clumsily the site while Morgan Jill ushered the grapple of her both elvish hands pawing her younger cousin's shoulders to squeeze firmer, emboldening to grant her myriad of optimistic persuasion and vast boldness to persevere the galore of imminent ordeals blocking her way.

"But I'm on a trial in a month at least and I don't even have any idea what kind of daily problems they're both having. That ex-priest and his wife!" Suddenly the medical student's smile petered out and an eerie flat line grotesquely etched past her nude pink mouth, whilst furrowing her eyebrows and flicking up her cinnamon brown embers to maintain an appropriate eye contact with her both family members. The twain of cinnamon brown embers ignited the fiercely wild, inescapable flames of pangs of the conscience of her mistake situated a couple of weeks ago at least, due to her false accusation of Timothy Howard in something he could never be capable of degrading not only his family image and reputation, but also his in general. Non-consensual touch and sexual assault. The young woman could hardly picture the genuine, explicit portrayal of redeeming herself through her ordinary apology towards the Howards for the libel. She couldn't even envision the epitome of a second chance whom she has severely damaged even verbally that foreshadowed the sequence of the authorities' involvement and potently chastity of believing the accused side. "It's too late to banish that trial I'm going to face in a month. They are far cry from weak and vulnerable to even believe little to none of anything I could claim as the naked, versatile truth."

"You're young yet but be careful what are you seeding, because that's what are you going to harvest eventually." Rubbing on circles on reflex, the fashion designer rested her forehead against the medical student's, pursuing eagerly for her gaze while the brunette's manifested to shake her head ceaselessly, conscience-strickenly.

"My goose is cooked. I'll harvest whatever I have already seeded from that case."

"Shhh, shh, shh, beauty!" At the moment, the fashion designer retrieved stealthily the moonstone necklace from Martha's grip and neatly manipulating her fingers to work on the waterfall of greasy chestnut strands to fully curtain the left part of her profile, whilst trying to doll her up with her present and cooing honey-mouthed, reassuringly. The recalcitrant attempts of the Romanian compatriot to mute her younger cousin's pessimistic, hopeless protests and pleas blatantly, sloppily sailing out of her tongue. "Better keep your tongue behind your teeth when it's truly worth to save yourself from troubles that taunt you to play with the fire!" Twirling her tongue tip poking Morgan Jill's upper plumpish lip mischievously, light-heartedly, her finger digits and fingertips worked on buckling the necklace circa Martha's delicate expanse. "Here we go! Happy Birthday, the most beautiful woman!" Then the Romanian compatriot's lips parted in the tad scoff and perching them on top of the patient's button nose to press a platonically tender, wonderful peck after babbling the reminder with its persuasive message conveyed to her to change the topic eventually.

\- A Couple of Hours Later or So -

As soon as Madeleine finished her shift in the flower store, subsequently she ventured to the local chapel after having an arranged appointment with Father Kellan Teagan whom he bumped into in the site she's working with Andrea and Cassandra. Oddly, they traded mutually for a few minutes a couple of words while the man of the cloth purchased a couple of premature charcoal gray magnolias and fuchsia and rubicund dahalias for the yard of his conveniently compact cottage that was a few minutes apart from the Howards' privately owned property. In order to diminish the stormy tempest of prejudices and rueful incredulity of the Michiganian, the clergyman introduced himself and claiming that he's an old friend of the former devotional members of the clergy that were on a honeymoon in Adams, Tennessee.

When the daily daylight episode slowly but surely passed at snail's pace to bled into the soothingly nocturnal hues of the early night looming its starless artistic, realistically raw vista of full moon lonely godforsaken, starkly accompanied the pitch-black darkness, the ill-famed creak of the monumentally polished double door of the chapel bewailed dully as the juvenile blonde ventured inside the interior and horrifying emptiness embracing her very presence while her docilely feminine, repetitive footsteps murmured against the floor. The uneasy ticking hours on the wall clock taunted her fleetly nimble glance to imbibe the recent time, gauged approximately 7 and a half o'clock.

A phone call that collocated once for today between Madeleine and the wed couple kept updating one another about the Howards' honeymoon destination experience and their forthcoming plans for today while the Michiganian apprised them about her older sibling and the ginormous, dedicated cares he is taking of Stephen along with their two-story mansion along with her plans for today and the bizarre, arcane visit she received from Father Kellan Teagan. Her stomach turned at the thought of the bizarre clergyman that paid a visit to Madeleine and Jude's workplace in mid-afternoon though the couple kept her wits about Kellan who's actually their old friend especially Timothy's former co-worker.

Even though the impending interaction between the Michiganian and the holy priest, her stomach turned at the thought of the harmlessly innocent appointment with a figure of Jude and Timothy's past lives, despite her lacking interactions with him even before. He was just an old friend of the former devotional members of the clergy. There aren't supposed to be any concerns about Father Kellan Teagan's identity. He's just a holy priest like his co-workers and the former avatar of Timothy.

Despite the fact Madeleine was leaning to agnostic when it comes up to her beliefs and religion, the Howards overlooked her agnostic nature and beliefs even if their friendship dawdled its prominent, extraordinary stability. Her last visit in the hallowed building where she couldn't be labeled like the other pious huge army of nobodies that were either attending regularly or once a week for prayers and the masses, was when she's a young adolescent approximately a couple of years ago. By judging her background, her parents are strict, immensely pious Catholics unlike their heirs or rather the future generation's representatives Roman and Madeleine gathered altogether. Roman has never demonstrated whether a dim interest or lukewarm inkling in the religion and to feel connection with the majority of the nobodies. So as his younger sister does. That was one of the crucial reasons why the both siblings alienated perpetually from their families and bestowed themselves a fresh start in Hartford, Vermont for a better life, better future and refreshing their absolute reality even if they have to share a property together and commence from the beginning to strive for their survival instead of relying on their strict Catholic parents' gracious aid.

Furthermore, what has tremendously fiery unnerved the Wilson siblings' parents was how the juvenile blonde accused the Catholics, the diocese and the religion in general in fanatical hypocrisy and ambiguous standards of their lives which nobody knows behind the doors of their homes and the chapel they regularly separate modicum of their chaotic daily schedule's time to pray and be part of the sacred community. A frigidly virulent ball curled in the pit of the blonde's stomach and green, bleak nausea submerging her lower abdomen at the thought of the austerity of the Catholicism and their unspeakably blowminding, arcane secrets whose skeletons haven't leaked out of the closet yet.

As young children, every time the both siblings were obligated to participate in the remarkable company of George Kennedy and Shirley Edna, throughout the mass's phenomenal process monotonously jingled its alarming tones into the youngsters' ears, resembling as if they were passing an enormous mass of strangers while roaming the streets hastily. Even the thought of contemplating through the translucently warm jewels of the nuns and priests that flicked up at the Wilsons' additions, blazing their sheer, sacred benevolence that brightly contrasted to the glassily lukewarm darkened gazes of Madeleine and Roman, bearing a semblance as if the contrasts between good and evil collided apocalyptically, light and darkness lethally dueling each other for domination, life and death cusping the half dead body of the persistent warrior of the life, striving for his own survival.

The church's common ambient permeated its eerie coziness for the young woman who rumbled silently, resiliently calm. The megawatt amplify of her heart pulsations scotching her brittle ribcage synced her eardrums to assimilate the tension of her humdrum flimsy heart's stubborn work. The genuine sentiment of meager adaption and the foreignness luxuriously immersing its cataract in the Michiganian's incessantly overflowing blood in her veins and nurturing her muscles inflamed the fierce trembling motion, manipulating lightly her weathered, alabaster fingers.

"Father Kellan?"In the meanwhile, vowels and syllables hesitantly builded the bashfully demure, twitched wail of the Michiganian whilst surveying in a scrutiny the chapel's interior with categorically stiff-necked trek and circling circa the exquisitely polished, invisibly vague dusty pews. "Are you there?"

In a long minute of resiliently awkward, stiff-necked doldrum conveniently asphyxiating the walls, the haphazardness of the heavy rain sloppily slapping the shut windows and exterior walls didn't taunt to twitch any motion of Madeleine's functioning muscles of her frail skeleton. There was no absolute response to her hesitant inquiry. Wasn't there?

When darting a fleet, dexterous glance at the wall clock, consequently the flower store saleswoman seated on the first pew in the right row, knotting her fidgety, dainty fingers in the grip of her frequently bouncing leg's denim dark jeans-clad thigh, licking greedily, gamely her lips to provide them with healthy, refreshing moisture. The soft fat of her wet, berry-coloured tongue twirled the circular manipulation until the door on her right whined freely, broadly opened at the vista of the older gentleman's conservatively ecclesiastical, dark wool outfit-clad larger frame conveyed the friendly reminder to the flower store saleswoman to fixate her stare on him, subsequently biting embarrassingly her tongue and dodging to corrode its rigidly stoicism texture to highlight prominently, authentically sore her youthful, gorgeous facial attributes.

"You have to be Madeleine!" At the moment, the older gentleman manifested with his mammoth, veiny hand the young lady trade mutually its space in the recent site which he occupied with his very presence. Throughout a docile, diligently humble nod in solemn agreement reaffirmed the Michiganian's emphatic position to confirm her identity, she lifted up her peachy rear from the lackered, comfortable pew and ambling up to Kellan Teagan. "It's good to see you at this moment of the day."

"Good evening, Father! It's also amazing to see you."

Once the both adults populated the sufficiently expansive site and the notoriously squeaky door slammed shut within a moment after Kellan gentlemanly, kindly held aside the door for the current church visitor, consequently he ushered her to a seat against him.

"You may take your seat, miss Wilson!"

"Thank you!" A sympathetically candid, luxurious smile bloomed upon the man of the cloth's pale-pinkish, voluptuously plumpish lips spreading his oral slit's thick, wonderfully fabulous bleed shedding in its beaming saturation of his benevolently calm nature, pale enough to illuminate his handsome facial attributes. "I'm genuinely flattered by your hospitability."

"Needless to be!" The mirthfully irony of the boyish, gentle chuckle of Kellan Teagan gracefully chafed his northern lilt, whereas his rear perched on the cherry wood, comfy chair after pulling it towards the table and barely inching its distance. "Forgive me for my oblivion or whatever you may call it, but I'm truly glad you're a friend of Timothy and Jude!" Shortly after crafting the excuse of his oblivion, consequently the clergyman's pristinely meaty, youthfully nimble fingers waltzed to apt to tandem around his transparent glass of water and lifting it up as his mouth grazed gingerly the glass material while gulping a handful of tiny, fresh sips to hydrate his tongue and oral caverns, whereas the Michiganian registered a bold bob of her head in solemn agreement, elaborating an optimistically cunning grin, curving her lips balefully in a wide O to leak her appealingly pearly-white teeth glittering its unblemished, diabolical luster past the older man's lapis lazuli huge, roundish gemstones. The mischievously merry twinkle of the beamingly huge, inviting and luminous grin of the juvenile lady scintillatingly dazzled the middle-aged gentleman's azure blue bijous, admiring her refreshing radiance and brutal honesty. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"No, thank you! I'm totally fine without it, Father!" Meantime, the Bostonian managed to lessen the proximity they traded with one another as his delightfully parchment still young-looking complexion dimly stretched the frail thinness of the elasticity of their appropriately maintained eye contact, linking their optics kindheartedly when he left aloof the glass of translucent liquid on the table. The polite rejection of the harmless offer for a glass of water didn't cease to astonish the older man and astoundingly stilling its mirth battering his complexion even though the young lady tried to not show any inkling of crude rudeness whilst rejecting kindly an offer whenever she didn't feel the need of hydration at all.

"It's fine! The last time when I met them especially my old friend Timothy was around Christmas."

"Mhm!"

"And they seemed to pretend as if they're actually a family after the tribulations they have being through the past weeks and months." Vividly scintillating, explicit flashbacks of the last Christmas when Father Kellan Teagan beheld the former pious members of the church personally along with their little cherub angel flashed its tempest of memorable reminiscence sousing his ocean of thoughts. The vivid reminiscence of how the former members of the clergy four months ago astounded gruesomely the Bostonian the bright contrast of Jude and Timothy's relationship while they were still loyally, docilely serving the cloth of chastity and the contemporary bounding that was leaning to rivals living under one roof together. It still plagued with scourge of venomous, lethal discomfort at the very thought of Jude and Timothy's regular bickers they staged when they weren't even wed yet and before Christmas's day behind the walls of their property. "Ironically, they really resemble a married couple for a few decades without shadow of a doubt though their controversial relationship after Briarcliff and the mess mudding them!" Clicking repetitively inward, surreptitious her perky tongue, Madeleine clawed graciously her crossed leg, bobbing recurringly each word slipping sloppily from the older gentleman's mouth. Softening stoicly the flower store saleswoman's alabaster face and mopping off neatly her grin into a grave, thoughtfully attentive thin line, decorating her oral slit. "I was wondering how they are doing nowadays like at least three months after seeing them the last time."

"They're doing wonderfully! Everything is heavenly pink for them even if they have disagreements sometimes. They're trying their best to dedicate themselves to the happiness that the celibacy abstain them for a long time."

"Interesting! I'm guessing they've seeded their rueful seeds of perseverance and they're harvesting whatever the hard work cost them as well." All of a sudden, a sinister pause stung the pairing as the Michiganian flicked her hazelish-brown depths to survey in a scrutiny the room studiously as it was uniquely furnished for a site part of the church's architecture. Two double tables coupled with a couple of chairs, two large sized luminously clean windows that once glossily glittered until the unavoidable heavy rain invincibly streaming its crystalline, woefully salty tears to dump its sea of transparent, tiny blotches excavating the panes. Notwithstanding the pale yellow painted walls and the nefariously ominous wooden planked flooring, a marbled maroon-sable stripped vase with gardenias sat in the middle of the both double tables, whereas a handful of acrylic grandiose paintings battered to the wall remarkably, opulently embellished the site. In addition to the site's decoration wasn't also forsaken the counter with a coffee machine pinning the smooth surface and chest of drawers consisting paradoxal mysteries inside them.

The pungent fragrance of gardenias, coffee and cinnamon swiftly, pleasantly suffused the thin, elastic air momentarily and Madeleine inhaling inwardly, surreptitiously the hedonistically pleasurable aroma of the compound, teasingly ticklish impaling her wee, flexible nostrils.

The peaceful horripilative ode of the soar heavy rain and the nonchalant, tuneful hush composed its own symphony of serenity, prickling electrifying goosebumps to pebble Kellan Teagan and Madeleine's thin epidermis. Myriad of unconditional relief and mellifluous felicity immersed the heat in the pit of their stomachs to relish each elapsing second of the torrent.

"I didn't mean to be a gossiper, however, I'm struggling with something for months after they left the church for better life and the freedom they weren't able to afford during their vows."

"What are the problems you're facing on your own, Father?" Shaking a meaty, masculinely strong forefinger after addressing him formally, thus an enormous flood of great bewilderment and nonplus fatly pooled her abdomen and cooling the untouched, paradoxally arcane areas, whereas the heart pulsations' passionate amplification heatedly thudded in her torso and escalated rapidly rabid, catching her bottom plump lip between her front ivory teeth to nip at the raw spot. "Is your reputation menaced or something else?"

"It's not about me," A heavy, disquiet sigh handily bolted from his brittle lungs, sipping continuously from the glass of water to hydrate his oral caverns and tongue, while a generous blush teasingly darkened the hue of his porcelain, still young-looking complexion and dimmed headstrongly cloudy his azure blue bijous. The apparentness of the luminous glint pearly leaked the hazardous prejudices conveying its cue to the young woman that something truly, gravely bothered the Bostonian whilst perusing warily his facial features in no time. The aftermaths of the former aspiring Monsignor's gloomy past and skeletons in the closet's mystique streamed icily, relentlessly the avalanche of worries, weighing off on separate scale his light-heavy wrinkles dimpling his eyelids and nose. The soar revelations' current progress of elaboration on his tongue tip were bittersweetly savored by the older gentleman, attempting to sort his mind and steadily assimilate and overthink what kind of rumors pitched the chapel before fleeing for Hartford and the newspapers he's read daily cautiously and keeping his wits about the daily news via the journalists' imaginative minds forging their writings for the accessible major mass of the general population. "It has to do with Timothy and it's not just the rumors I have had enough after leaving Boston for Hartford, in fact, there were former co-workers of mine that couldn't keep their tongue behind their teeth for such blatant gossiping behind his back."

"That's detrimentally unacceptable what they did. I thought they somehow had some kind of respect for him or you at least."

"Howsoever, once he made the final decision to take the reins of his freedom with Jude and their child," Clearing gruffily his throat with a cough as the heel of his hand manipulated the palm to muffle the afflictively appalling noise when thickness engulfed his Adam's apple. "I stood for him when the gossips begun in the sort of he's having a town pump's baby and he was raped by the demon inside that young nun." Stifling a murderously uncommon, frosty gasp to fasten the young lady's lungs while unhealthily, chaotically absorbing in the recently ugly, truthful revelations of Father Kellan Teagan's venomously serpentine tongue conjugation as its severe, fatal burden constricted once his torso and it bubbled up from his tense muscles. "Even in the newspaper article how he and you became Hartford's heroes for calling the police on the infamous serial killer Cayden Gray and saving Jude from his demolishing house was labeled Timothy as a victim of rape forward."

A long minute of apocalyptically rational doldrum consumed the walls of the site whilst the Michiganian could hardly believe not only Father Kellan's ex-colleagues ambiguous attitude after the former aspiring Monsignor's resign from the diocese and its ecclesiastical duties, but also the relentlessly hard-hearted, sharply acerbic journalists' venomously foul fingers daubing on the typing machine their forthcoming articles with labeling somebody's image to be a blot on the landscape in the major mass of the nobodies' eyes. Grimace flourished ruthlessly on the Michiganian's parchment, freshly youthful complexion and the mirth fell off from her attributes that once were victimized by her scintillating, divinely delightful youthfulness.

Meanwhile, the Bostonian lifted up his rear from his seat, in order to boil some water for the black tea in the kettle for his recent visitor, whilst the blonde examined studiously with her peripheral eye the surroundings, nibbling her lower cherub lip demandingly fiendish, cocksurely. Her blood boiled ferociously at the clergymen and journalists' hypocrisy and surreptitiously plotted conspiracies against the image of the British compatriot. A toxic cauldron brewed and cooked the fresh volcanic avalanche of immense contempt and assertive, inhumane resentment how the former members of the church were harvesting the scandalously stoic, barbarous woes and labels behind the pressmen and servants of God. Fortunately, Father Kellan Teagan was the only source to inform her and the Howards about the imminent rumors endangering balefully the family's reputation and image in the strangers' eyes that could scarcely get to know them except dripping their fiercely sticky, stoutly dreadful nicknames and gossips that aren't even associated with the absolute reality of the present realm the British compatriot traded with the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer.

"I don't have any words to say about this except it's obnoxious how their egos are growling to gossip without even knowing the person but imperiling their reputation and image in the eyes of the others." A sharp exhale unloaded Madeleine's femininely dainty, frail torso whilst propping her temple as her dainty, featherly-soft fingertips kneaded on circles the tender flesh, in order to diminish the chances of a headache or eventual migraine at the thought of the sickening news and methods of the nobodies punishing the others they barely know with detrimental damage on their avatar in general. "I truly believe one day they will shut their mouths before sloppily fueling their rage and delusional pictures and scenarios with something they aren't familiar with, but I think somebody has to defend them in front of the media as I can do."

"They also were whispering that he's responsible for two homicides." The haphazardness of the middle-aged gentleman's sapphire blue jewels landing on the kettle and the transparent liquid, he shot a quick glimpse at his current guest.

"He's realizing his mistakes and I don't know what kind of problem the media have to comment him along with the priests that surrounded you in Boston."

"They are playing a really dangerous game! So the journalists and priests can be sued and be charged with defamation and their menacing gossips about somebody's image especially in Timothy's case." All of a sudden, Kellan managed to cross docilely, modestly his arms across his muscly, toned chest whilst awaiting patiently for the water to boil at last.

\- A Few Hours Later or So -

As soon as the hours ticked uneasily through the unceasingly advancing night passing at summer breeze's pace, consequently the Howards had dinner downstairs the desolated hotel and Jude went on a brief jogging nearby unlike the British aristocrat who preferred to stay inside their booked room to take care of Edward Ralph, who was deeply asleep. Further, the infant was bathed, fed and conveniently swaddled in new, clean garments before bedtime at last.

Even though Jude hasn't jogged for a couple of months since she has graced her and the younger gentleman with a new addition to their compact, nevertheless, tremendously adorable and doting family, she started trot twice daily or even once at least, in order to keep herself in shape with her post-birth figure.

"Look what, Maddie! I'm quite surprised you both had a grave conversation how you leapt from the positive part of our relationship with Jude up to the," In the interval, orthodoxy long, healthily creamy fingers cradled and playfully stroke the senseless infant while the British aristocrat was neatly seating on the edge of the king-sized bed and clinging the retro jet-black earpiece to his vulnerable ear, licking greedily, insecurely his naturally baby-pinkish, chapped lips. "The rumors about me and my past during my priesthood from the local Boston church and how the journalists labeled me in the last newspaper about Cayden's arrest." Series of insecure, coy stutters clumsily grinded on the older man's mouth, consequently idly registering to dart his cinnamon brown optics to find reassuring warmness in the little boy's ethereal beauty, constructing his facial anatomy, while discussing a controversially sophisticated topic with the Michiganian. "I have always treasured my friendship with Kellan Teagan and that was pretty hospitable of his side to treat you with a cup of tea."

"I know! No wonder why we had this seriously distressing discussion about your reputation with Jude during your post-Briarcliff days."

"It won't be easy to make the journalists' cats to get their tongues at all. Trust me, they're ferocious wild animals that seek an ordinary person as a prey to fabricate anything about their families or nicknames about their notorious accident they have had a long time ago."

"But Mary Eunice passed away a long time ago and I don't even have any idea how they will assimilate with their teeny-weeny brains whatever you try to explain to them."

"It's true! The bunch of the newspaper followers are brainwashed, mindless zombies that seek to absorb in something they have never experienced and they aren't even bothering devilishly judging somebody by its book cover."

"Hopefully it's a called a day off once you get back from the honeymoon to mop the floor off with those mindless zombies. Where's Jude?"

"Oh! She's jogging nearby the hotel. I'm in the room with our little cherub angel."

"I see! She's rather preferring to stay in shape after the pregnancy."

**Author's Note: I'd like to sincerely apologize for keeping Jude and Timothy's scenes being only once per a chapter lately, nevertheless, I opt to give chance to the other characters' development and to play out their song in the storyline. Do you still enjoy the book, despite encountering once per a chapter Jude and Timothy's scenes? Let me know! I'd like to hear your thoughts! :))**

**What do you think is the crucial reason Morgan Jill and Andy to overlook Martha's grim past and grant her the deserved second chance? Do you think Timothy has obscured from illumination the vividly gloomy secrets about his past from his old friend Father Kellan Teagan? How do you think Jude and Timothy's honeymoon will finish? **


	33. Diabolical Deed

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"Don't worry about me, dear! I'm right there. You can see me in a whole view. In a whole view of tower. In a whole view of a landscape. In a whole view of paradise. You are going to be an uncle of my little precious right there. It will be due in November. You have still time to reflect on the overwhelming process how your sister becomes a mother for initial time. Somebody has to be also either the godmother or godfather of this little precious angel."

"I'm still wondering how did you persevere and you are still standing from the ground even after the severe affliction you've stepped its sticky surface and clamming your palms from the ounce of the tribulations, burdening your hands. I remember how when we're so young just two weeks before Christmas at least, you couldn't stop begging even clashing with me to get back your favourite stuffed animal. That was nothing compared to the hardships you're being through at the moment, Martha! That was just an infantile action to question your stubbornness to put it mildly. It's extremely apparent how persistent you're and you're about to fight for whatever you believe it's right for you and banish everything that weakens you and doesn't actually impacting its greatly fantastic influence to improve your character and your very own being."

"You have to be Madeleine! It's good to see you at this moment of the day."

"Good evening, Father! It's also amazing to see you."

"It won't be easy to make the journalists' cats to get their tongues at all. Trust me, they're ferocious wild animals that seek an ordinary person as a prey to fabricate anything about their families or nicknames about their notorious accident they have had a long time ago."

"But Mary Eunice passed away a long time ago and I don't even have any idea how they will assimilate with their teeny-weeny brains whatever you try to explain to them."

Once the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's series of monotonously unavoidable whispers of her vermilion sneakers ghosted creamily, relentlessly the concetre empty asphalt, subsequently mild heat pebbled ruthlessly her delicate, alabaster epidermis zapped due to the stark moderation of her uneven pace ghostwriting her jogging. The heart pulsations perkily hysterical battered the frequency of the sluggish pounds thudding her brittle rubcage, guarding with its constructed walls of the megawattly potent heart pulses almost levelling out the sheer adrenaline to spring out of its grate. Fashioning into balled fists her white-knuckled, petite hands on reflex, the frequency of the dully breathless inward inhales and snorts through her tiny, vulnerable nostrils to swig the fresh, nocturnal air during her jogging expedition, the middle-aged lady's naturally roseate, lusciously plumpish lips pursed thoughtfully, warily.

The functioning pulses and muscles melded to pressure restlessly and the genuine epitome of the freedom infectiously sweet laced the middle-aged lady's fat of her berry-coloured tongue, squinting up her fixated cinnamon brown optics forward. The crickets' silver-tonguedly elating, serene songs composed its own nocturnal ballad to play on loop repetitively.

Hypodermic heat of the generous layer of pinkness tinged mischievously tickled the Bostonian's well-carved, chubby cheeks.

What Judy enamored with the leisure jog to ghostwrite a handful of kilometers on her own was the utter relaxation from her daily problems and tremendous responsibilities, encumbering her chaotic daily schedule. It felt like a leisure walk in the park or anywhere where the limited quantity of general population blocked her path to scorch the futile calories and motioning the choir of tandeming muscles to rotate and grind altogether.

"Do ya know what the best about the jogging is?" An inwardly narrative voice echoed through her skull whilst knitting together her thin, elegantly dark eyebrows when the light spring zephyr gently fanned her neatly, casually modest coiffed with its tied in a low bun long wavy aureate hair unlike the fistful of unruly, cheerfully glossy gilded tresses bouncing up along with her soft fat of her bosom, escorting docilely the rhythm. "It asphyxiating the stress and those growling hormones of the incessant reminder of yar daily problems you encounter relentlessly. It's like a teeny-weeny sport to keep yourself in shape." The impending destination of the former licentious jazz nightclub singer was getting back inside the godforsaken hotel as her petite-frame glided smoothly through the lobby after setting foot inside the interior and decelerating her pace deftly when a handful of strangers along with the hotel owner shooting fleet glances at the blonde, who strolled up towards the elevator to ascend to the last floor which was namely the fourth.

In a long minute of awaiting patiently the elevator after manifesting to press the button with a few fingers and darting a fleetly nimble glimpse at the front door and the lobby shortly before the elevator's current progress of descent from the third to the first floor unnervingly ticked, thus ominously ordinary snort coursed through the middle-aged lady's tiny, flexible nostrils and utterly relaxing her arms.

Once the elevator's unceasing descent floor by floor and peaking to the first, the lavishly silver doors swung broadly opened at the illustration of a handful of clients stepping out of their eased entity at last and the former pious sister of the church hopping up inside the site and adjusting for the final floor to get back inside her reserved room emphatically after her evening jogging.

For a moment of pure patience and murderous versatility, Jude peaked to the final floor of the façade and strolled up leisurely, squarely towards her reserved room numbered 406. A couple of fabulously acrylic and watercolor paintings exquisitely hovered on the wine red floral royal wallpapers along with a grandiose French window in the end of the hallway that was categorically shut, in order to prevent any unintentional accidents of any of the hotel customers between suicide and homicide. The first four doors of the abysmally dim lit corridor hardly possessed any inkling of decrepitude unlike the fifth door's discrete details illustrating the actual furniture leading to its linked site apt to variant between series of dim leery scrapes and a few dried dark blood blotches embroidering the wooden material, arousing its candid, gruesomely tangy pinch of salt of every owner's gape darted to the sinisterly imprinted like tattoo traces.

It's not that the Bostonian paid utterly attention to anything encircling her, despite her sharp slyness and razor-sharp intelligence, unconditional instincts and intuition, the gruesomely unspeakable landscape of the scrapes and dry dark blood blotches caught her peripheral eye nonetheless. The haphazardness of halting her unavoidably mere pace gliding through the corridor, her lower deliciously plump lip twitched abruptly and manipulated the twist of a straight line, gauging her sheer nonplus and uncertainness behind the gloomy back story of the leery traces embroidering the room 405's door. The truth eventually was hidden in scarcely glimpsing or at least recalling bright, explicitly scintillating memories of those scrapes and blood blotches adorning the wooden material's furniture shortly before leaving the monumental building for a brief jog. Little did she know if either one of the clients of the hotel refilling the patchy hollow of the despondent, fiendish emptiness possessed any unimaginable personality traits leaning to psychotic or socipathic's wing.

Without a second thought, the blonde retired back to her booked room and stepping inside when the prospect of the younger gentleman absent-mindedly, vastly affectionate stroke their ray of sunshine's short mop of crispy brown strands capping his scalp. Pristinely secure, slim fingers gingerly, solemnly cradled and grazed idly, tenderly the stray chestnut strands whilst flicking up his cinnamon brown jewels to bore into his wife's blushed complexion. A benevolently beatific, vague smile majestically lingered at the corners of his angelically pale-pinkish, cherub lips.

"You're back from the jogging." The ordinary reminder of Timothy's mirth hardly rotating or motioning to fall from his handsome facial attributes as soon as his wife's very presence acknowledgment fueled the patchy loneliness in the site, whereas the middle-aged woman elaborated a healthily guttural, husky chuckle whilst dashing leisurely, plainly to participate in her small family's company by sharing a seat with her husband. "I'm guessing it's been a long time when you did it later than sooner."

"I have to second it," Dropping her head to perch on her husband's broadly muscular, comfy shoulder on reflex, consequently the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's honey brown big, roundish embers landed on their kipping son. The space she genuinely open-minded traded with the British compatriot and her son and refilling the inescapably patchy, invincible gaps of her temporal absence. No matter if they were in their own very home or anywhere else, as much as they're bonded together, the family is all and everywhere. The poetically majestic, heartwarming space which wore smugly its own title of very sanctum bestowed with myriad of unconditional love, unquestioning warmness and cozy comfort the trio even though Edward Ralph was far cry to be young enough to fathom the logical complexity of its exemplar's notion. It was a sentiment like the others that were worth more than a thousand words essay to be expressed poetically rational and dip inside its mistily abysmal, endless sea of plexuses. Furthermore, his flimsy heart melted every time whenever his parents united and he delightfully was part of their company and fathoming due to his childishly sharp intuition and impulsive instincts the genuine notion of the family sanctum when the elements weren't missing to formulate its puzzle. "I really missed the times when the jogging was part of my anatomy's daily second nature. I could do it like twice daily without even getting tired of," Darting the fat of her strawberry-coloured tongue to lick gamely, idly her upper and bottom cherub lips as the British aristocrat ushered to puff its inward, serene inhale of Jude's neatly messy bun aroma of delicious honey. "Like eating, napping or whatever comes to yar mind unlike the cleaning or cooking."

"Well, you're getting back to your free life even when you're having responsibilities as a parent and a wife!" Pressing a featherly-soft, welcomingly promising peck on top of the former nun's head and then nuzzling delicately his nose against the softly crispy gilded scalp, he admired her ethereal beauty and her hair's crispiness yet. "There's nothing bad to fuel with your creativity your every day episode. It's like watching the movie's franchise but noticing the differences in each new individual segment, regardless how dumb and illogical they could be." The resiliently quiet inhales of the delightfully luxurious fragrance of the former holy woman's hair amplified her heinously hysterical heart pulses throbbing into her ribcage. Profuse, perfectly natural perspiration clumsily, lazily coated her temple and her delicate epidermis underneath her garments. "Your hair's aroma is still scrumptiously majestic as much as your unmatchable uniqueness. It's as crispy as young autumn leaf."

"Yar mouth is always capable of crafting such endless cataracts of compliments on my looks even when I look like a tree."

"You deserve only the best and nothing to discourage you to believe the truth I and Maddie would always stick to."

"Did ya both talk while I was gone?" Pursuing for her husband's lusciously baby-pinkish, plump lips and sealing one another's lips into a brief, sultrily inviting kiss shortly before the dose of vowels and syllables limping backward and forward in the beginning of her tongue blasted one another for domination until the imminent utterance's forge at last, the initial thought of their daughter figure who got utter control over the flower store along with Andrea and Cassandra during the couple's diabolically indisputably absence.

"We did," Gulping sluggishly the thickness contracting his Adam's apple, Judy managed to seize her lips in a pensive, attentive purse while being all ears and honing her petite, vulnerable ears to Timothy's honey-mouthed, boyishly timid mumble whilst fixating his chocolate brown depths to peruse deeply into his wife's hazelish-brown. They spoke emotions. They vibrantly glimmered out the powerful glossiness and the luminous starless nocturnal landscape of Timothy's acknowledgment about his old friend and the young woman's interaction a couple of hours ago and the fame-hungry, bloodthirstily inquisitive journalists labeling the Howards with unthinkable names that imperiled their image and reputation into the general population's eyes every time whenever a newspaper article mentioned either of their names out loud. "She mentioned about our old friend Kellan. There were rumors about us inside the chapel he fought to protect our names from the notoriety and the last newspaper article about Cayden's arrest and how they labeled me as a rape victim."

"My goodness!" At the moment, the older woman manifested to hunker down to untie her sneakers' shoelaces and kicking them off as her obsidian black socks-clad feet creamily glided to ghostwrite the carpeted floor, apocalyptic incredulity at the initial illumination of the revelations sharpened her gorgeous, graciously symmetric facial features while the younger gentleman manifested to dangle his silken, muscular arms to brace her middle to grant her emboldening consolation even when the panic didn't fall from his face. "Did Maddie meet eventually yar old pal in the chapel?"

"They did and discussed so many things, despite his attempts to have a fresh start in Vermont like us." Sharp exhale straightforwardly bubbled up from the British compatriot's brittle lungs when the impotence to halt the cliffhanger of the questions whose answers weren't evidently emphasized to equate to the patchily vapid fragrance that emulated fully to its futility. "Most of the priests that were with him in Boston's St. Andrew church sussurated sweet exaggerations that weren't part of their business at all. The reality we're living in and we're keeping ourselves quiet to mute those gossipers is as fugly as withered flower." All of a sudden, the former devotional man of the cloth followed in the corner of his eye Jude's dexterous, bony fingers working on pulling her maroon sporty, casual sweater up to her shoulders and discarding it on the conveniently royal-like wine red armchair's polished arm pad, shooting a fleetly deft glance at the former aspiring Monsignor. The tension fiercely blazed its own potently megawatt intensity, building the fiery sanctuary of the great deal of drama, cusp of realism and pessimism rationally hungering for solution. It wasn't a good sign of the harmony emulation. It was rather leaning to its celestially low-spirited fierceness of the stubborn journalists' hunger for fame to climb in the hierarchy's hill for more recognition, money while crucially jeopardizing even innocents' reputations and images to scintillate the audience's realistic rationality and being brainwashed by the sugarcoated exaggerations of the publicists. It was a matter of question. "We have something particularly urgent to do."

"If they are aiming to ruin us and our peaceful life we're having in a privately owned property in the countryside, I don't want them then to pretend as if nothing happened after they pissed on our leg and told us it's raining."

"No shit! The journalists are benefiting from the doubts of everything that has happened or said by their protagonists in their own pathetic newspaper story." The suddenness of the former promiscuous nightclub singer stripping off her pair of sporty trousers and dumping them along with the sweater as nothing else than her comfy pair of obsidian black panties paired with her plain lily-white tank top securing her torso and exposing her bare, leanly long arms. "No wonder why Dmitri Shostakovich's life was ruined thanks to the media and his opera Lady Macbeth in the District of Mtsensk was criticized, besides most of his relatives and friends faced much worse consequences than him!" Quirking hair-risingly bittersweet, unspeakably aghast her dark, elegantly thin eyebrows to knit towards the bridge of her nose whilst maneuvering her fingers to knead gently her forehead and fingertips ghostwriting the thick mantle of translucent sweat sponging clumsily her flesh's perpetrator, bedaubing softly the profuse layer of perspiration to peel off her profile at last.

"At least we're not having death camps like the Soviet Union does with the rivals of the country, itself! But I've to admit it's unbearable the others that don't even having any idea what are ya being through every single fucking day," Trying to regulate the decibels of her reprimand after boiling and cooking its cauldron of opulent of stark frustration and daredevil resentment and pessimism ironically smoothed during their incessant drip from the former pious woman of the cloth's mouth. "And yar like whether the superhero or the anti-hero in the newspaper article and those nobodies are gawking at you as if ya have murdered somebody or at least having any involvement in the crime dilemma, ya know," Puffing a sharp, brief snort through her button nose while her rear carelessly perched on the armchair's arm pad and daubing smoothly, unknowledgeable the duo of discarded attires, faintly ducking her head though she didn't avert her gaze from the British compatriot's inviting coffee brown optics. "Their care about your back story and so forth to satiate the journalists' growling stomachs of their fierce vain is under no circumstances. They will eat your hat if they weren't that superficial and impulsive. That keeps the journalists' bellies full and their success prospering rapidly along with earning their miserable salaries of fabricating a tissue of lies that are worth even a couple of cents."

"Despite my apprehension and prejudices, I'll take the utter responsibility to face the apocalyptic tribulations of the publicists to defend our family and our image instead of chasing the rainbow of picturing a peaceful life even when the journalists' quietness is a cold day in July." Meantime, the Bostonian registered to retrieve her clean baby blue bathrobe sprawled recklessly on her shoulder blade shortly before retiring to the en-suite bathroom to take a quick refreshing, lukewarm shower, opting to assimilate the whole dilemma of the phone conversation Timothy and Madeleine swapped with each other just a few minutes ago. "And I almost forgot to mention I saw the fifth door on this floor,"

"There's something fishy behind it!" Jude ushered her nimble tongue to cut off politely whilst approaching her husband once again to toss her leanly marbled, floppy arms to seal them in a tight, warm embrace for a minute. "As soon as I got back in the hotel from the jogging, because I didn't see that on my way outside just a half an hour ago or so."

"The only thing I heard was the desperate bewails of its recent victim of being stabbed with a knife several times. Presumably the hotel owner's assistant smells fishy!"

"Oh! I didn't know psychopaths would be the actual owners of such a place."

"I'm still questioning why Mister Gallagher didn't stop right there in the past few nights when we were still there."

"I would rather not have any interactions with that fishy joe! I would never allow him to shed some light about room 405."

"No, no, Ewan! There's nothing wrong lurking around the church shortly before shutting it down up to the next morning!" Once the local Hartford's chapel emptied rabidly rapid through the nocturnal daily episode, consequently Kellan Teagan's pristinely meaty, masculinely strong fingers danced around the earpiece that clung to his ear-shell, whilst seating in the cryptic room and the artificial divinely gilt light filtered bountifully the sufficiently expansive space and reclining leisurely on his cherry wood chair.

The truth eventually was that Ewan Fergus and Kellan Teagan traded mutually a sufficiently scandalous age gap that was approximately a decade at least. Further, the both religious men of the cloth's initial encounter was a handful of years ago when the older gentleman had to pay a visit to Adams, Tennessee and once the destiny bonded magnificently unexplainable him with the New Jerseyan, whenever they had sparse time to meet one another after swapping with one another their phone numbers and addresses for their residences' location. Through the advancing time and their stealthy dinner nights either in a luxurious restaurant or on the contrary using their creativity to save their own money for facilities like restaurants, clubs and bars.

In spite of the long time friendship Timothy and the slightly older holy man exchanged together for more than a half a decade, what it was candidly, bloodily oblivious for the former devotional members of the church is one of their old friend's ambiguous lifestyle. If either of them have acknowledged their old friend's ambiguous lifestyle and the double standards impacting generally even if they're emulating to the subtle exposure, thus it would be truly questioned how the New Jerseyan hasn't left the church for better life due to his sexual orientation that was rather deemed as out of the norms according to the contemporary society and the solemnly austere, unwelcoming morals of the recent decade. It would be a betrayal if the religious clergyman shed the light about his sexual orientation in front of his old friends. Galore of controversially explicit scenarios flashed in his blizzard of thoughts and the bitter flavor of the betrayal about unexposed intimate questions that have to do with his personal life.

Even the most intimate, discreetly subtle secrets cannot be scintillatingly bright illuminated and leak in front of the others' eyes unless its owner wisely decides who must be his buddies that are presumed to not spread the word about their discrete secrets.

The both clergymen Ewan and Kellan usually exchanged with one another phone conversations to keep themselves updated about their daily lives like once daily at least. The last time the duo have beheld each other was a handful of weeks ago.

"Is it eerily empty as it's supposed to be?" The New Jerseyan's pleasant lilt emphasized prominently his posed question while his other mammoth, veiny hand's long fingers handily braced his wine glass of mouth-watering red liquor, lacing remarkably his oral caverns and berry-coloured tongue.

"Yes and it's just like that for a half an hour already except for some late visitors that are back from work and just arrived there to pray their hearts out."

"Aw, I see, sweet pie! Because my chapel is empty as ghost town during the evening hours." The haphazardness of nefariously unpreventable creak of the monumentally lacquered double door of the chapel wailed and tingling its own amusing ode into the older man's flexible ears, keeping his wits about the recent hallowed building's visitor.

An arcanely mystic embarrassing silence arched between the pairing through their earpieces enduring almost a straight minute without conjugating any single blatantly stark vowel except their breathing fueled meagerly the frigid hollow.

Even when the recent hallowed building's visitor equated to unknown yet for the older gentleman, whereas his persistent attempts to sort his mind neatly, smartly, his sapphire blue minerals landed subconsciously on one of the grandiose acrylic painting, manipulating to dart his wet, strawberry-coloured tongue to moisten with its indisputably healthy hydration his upper cherub lip. Little did he know what kind of intentions the unknown visitant and flabbergastingly scorching the frigid emptiness and abysmal barrens. Anyway the majority of the church visitants didn't have any vicious intentions in the form of harming the other strangers, nuns and holy men or infectiously contaminating with its sinisterly rowdy turmoil of heated debates and wee hints of harassment.

"I'm genuinely sorry, sweet pie, but I really have to go, because there's a particular visitor whose face I haven't even imbibed with my own eyes." Dramatically cold-blooded, doubtlessly icy exhale unloaded the Bostonian's toned torso, lingering the broadly vibrant, beamingly cheesy smile spreading across his naturally baby-pinkish, scrumptiously plump lips while curling them in the low-spirited caution. "We'll see each other very soon and I strongly promise you to return the call by tomorrow the morning. Good night and I love you, Ewan!"

"It's okay, baby!" The meek sensuality creamily spotlighted his straightforwardly open-minded instant response to his boyfriend's excuse, although the inevitable a handful of cracks tattooing blood-curdlingly on his frail heart and equating to the heartache due to the fact the duo will miss one another even if it was until the next morning to hearken each other's adorable, silver-tongued voices tingling angelic hymns. "You better check who that is and I love you too way more than you can imagine, Kellan! Good night!" Once the New Jerseyan ushered his mumble to ghostwrite the earpiece huskily, seconds before peeling off his gracious sweet nothings, humble pip echoed through his eardrum.

When the Bostonian lifted up his rear and readjusted the earwig back to the handset and retreating from the site and his fingers switched off the lights, subsequently a familiar face at first sight caught his eye, although the maintenance of their approximately unnatural huge distance. The familiar character that appeared to be the recent chapel's visitor did seem far from unfamiliar according to his perceptions even if it's been months since his final stay in the small city of Massachusetts.

The more the middle-aged gentleman managed to approach the brunette, more of her physique loomed to cloud his lapis lazuli gemstones. Wasn't that woman Lana Winters? How ironic she pays a visit to one of the local Hartford's churches in the wee hours of the night! Her appearance and character didn't parallel to the religiousness of the majority of the general population nowadays. Even though Father Kellan Teagan had a doubtless interaction with the brunette back in Boston, he wasn't very fond of her imprisonment in one of the most ill-famed mental institutions of the small city of Massachusetts. He didn't think it was fair to imprison somebody just because of their sexual orientation that was far cry from the most of the general population's. A big dose of questions encumbered his train of thoughts and the inability yet to discover their leaked brilliantly crystal answers he seeks about Lana Winters's escape from Briarcliff and establishing nowhere else than in Hartford, Vermont.

"It's Lana Winters, right?" The pleasantly northern lilt of the priest punctured his gracious politeness, enveloped in sacred benevolence whilst maintaining an appropriate, graceful eye contact with the journalist, softening his handsome facial attributes whilst a sympathetically vague smile bloomed upon his mouth.

"Yes, Father! I'm there for a pretty serious conversation to hold there." In the interim, the middle-aged man's bottom brim lip curled at her undeniable honesty, in spite of the tartly salty flavor of the cryptical mystery behind her ultimate freedom to join the general population and resume strong-willedly her career in journalism.

"Just of curiosity how did you know about my current establishment in Vermont?"

"A child's play!" Meanwhile, Kellan Teagan manifested to bob docilely modest his head whilst being all ears to acknowledge the real motives how the brunette has tracked down not only him, but also the Howards that were currently on a honeymoon in Adams, Tennessee. Wryly hoarse, half-hearted chuckle roared through the middle-aged lady's mouth when the subconsciously woeful prejudices behind the brunette's identity and arcanely peculiar demeanor during their second interaction aroused his ruefully somber doubts the bright contrast between the hopelessly despondent, helpless patient committed against her will in the most nefarious mental institution of Boston and the beatifically cocksure, acute woman whose petite, delicately marbled hands' fingers daubed series of times the typewriter's buttons to formulate the sheets of papers' fabrication to rise in the higher tiers of her prosperous career and the recognition of her famous protagonist to leak even the most discrete secrets and unthinkably untouchable circumstances about notorious personas and sites. Even a single encounter that's situated a year at least after the horrifically horripilative events compensate the hopelessness of the prisoner of the destiny and flapping its celestially aureate wings of the haughtiness and childlike carelessness as soon as their gruesomely rusty, ominously lifeless cages were unlocked and they participated in the huge mass of the nobodies, gliding smoothly through the aisle of the divinely unique liberty. "I asked a few priests to give me more information about your current location along with Sister Jude," Clearing gruffily his throat with a muffled cough after politely swatting his colossal, creamy hand to diminish the blatantly stronger decibels, whereas stifling every variant of cryptically spine-chilling, peculiar noises and devilish slurs, fortunately, dying on his tongue. "And the Monsignor as I know you're best of the friends during your priesthood, if I'm not mistaking."

"Correct, Miss Winters!" The futility of questioning her escape from the mental hospital urged him to not find any tangible inkling of altering the topic sooner than later that could bring him nothing else than misunderstanding and antagonistic troubles with the brunette. "I and Timothy are still friends even with Jude!"

"He isn't a priest anymore?" What it peculiarly aroused the middle-aged woman's authentically outstanding inquisitiveness to discover more about the Howards' contemporary life and their associations with the Bostonian. Furthermore, what Lana could barely envision the explicitly vivid scenarios of the British compatriot was no longer serving the ecclesiastical duties by choosing the family and re-building his value system all over again over rising in the highest tiers of the church and becoming Cardinal and afterwards the Pope at last.

"Yes!" A heavy sigh flushed the middle-aged gentleman's tiny, flexible nostrils whilst Lana tried to assimilate iron-willedly the recent information leaking through the holy man she saw once back during her imprisonment in the facility. Moreover, she wasn't very fond of the Bostonian's old friend who resigned from the church to pursue his altruistic motives of being a family man instead of choosing slyly the power and divine recognition. "He has his own family and he preferred Jude and their son over the clerical duties, you know! The times are changing, the priorities also do. Don't they?"

"Interesting!" Cunning sarcasm punctured the brunette's prim, childish excitement to detect more about the wed couple's contemporary life, whilst maneuvering to lick greedily, gamely her lips and smoothly ghosting the fat of her tongue to smear its fresh dew, subsequently luminously glimmering past the clergyman's ocean blue gemstones, igniting its fiercely scorching curiosity to uncover more of Lana's debatable intentions, donning her up in the mystically dark invisible attires of her journalistic imagination and exuberant curiosity. "I'm actually an old friend of Sister Jude."

"It's not just a sister of the church anymore, Miss Winters! Don't try harder to call them with their clerical titles that they wore just months ago! It's like eating the food that was thrown in the garbage bin and recycled with other remnants of the garbage!"

"I'm essentially there in Hartford because they are about to have an upcoming interview due in June!"

"I know that my old friends will be interviewed to break the ice about the labels they are being portrayed in that newspaper article about Cayden Gray, the infamous serial killer of Vermont."

"Do you have any information where I can find right now Mr. Howard along with Jude?"

"They aren't there in Hartford. They're gone to Tennessee for their honeymoon and they will back soon."

Notwithstanding the circumstances, Father Kellan Teagan has never been a keen fan of the journalists and their starkly razor-sharp intuition and celestially unholy intelligence melding with their childlike, superfluous nosiness that's the crucially realistic, apocalyptic symptom of thousand of ruined lives because of the media and turning their lives onward instantaneously afflictive.

Further, the fame-hungry reporter arrived a couple of hours ago in Vermont, in order to accomplish her quest of having an initial interaction with the Howards months after their encounter back in their past lives paging up a few pages ago in their books of their own lives. Plenty of embarrassing uncertainness to embrace with open arms the fact that her former captor and her husband were gone in the other part of the enormous country burdened the journalist's vortex of thoughts which hysterically heinous whirled and twirled their disastrous process of overthinking.

In the corner of her smoky quartz cabochon she followed the criminally brisk phenomenon of the petered out smile and replaced with a straight line due to the sheerly vexing prying nature of the chapel visitant. She knew so far that the former ambitious Monsignor's old friend commenced to develop his dislike for Lana and her cryptically unexplainable, ominously vicious intentions, wisdom swathing thickly the core of his gearing thoughts.

"Your prying starts to bother me, Miss Winters! If you are about to label them with unspeakably gross nicknames in whatever your tissue of lies like the other journalists, just forget about stepping there and using me as a source for drawing a long bow!"

"I'm not prying or intruding, Father!" Ushering a pout to curve her naturally rosy-coloured, cherub lips in a grimacing fussy frown decorating her face when the Bostonian's mouth struggled to elaborate a huskily wry, dry snigger whilst crossing his muscly, toned arms across his chest.

"Oh really? If Jude is your friend, then you would use her for your own story that you're currently writing and thinking that is okay to mention names without the consent of their owners." Inclining ruefully mischievous, smart-aleckily an eyebrow at the visitant's suspicious demeanor and her self-absorbed thought of gaining fame after collecting myriad of evidence about the Howards' contemporary life. "That's your purpose. When it rains, it pours, Miss Winters! I just told you enough about them and I cannot get enough of your ego and infantile curiosity yearning to learn more about them even when I mustn't be the person that I am giving you this information. It's like betrayal to them."

\- The Next Morning -

\- 8th of April, 1966 -

Once the nocturnal daily episode bled into the daylight with the phenomenally breathtaking evolution of the sunrise and the spring divinely big, aureate sun climbing smoothly the horizon, subsequently Madeleine and Cassandra got back at work unlike their eldest co-worker, Andrea who was sharing an encounter with the security guard Frank in one of the nigh cafeterias.

During their shift, the both young women managed to discuss a couple of topics that aroused their interest while music was playing on the radio and humming in the background.

"Honey you do me wrong but still i'm crazy about you! Stay away too long and i can't do without you! Every chance you get you seem to hurt me more and more! But each hurt makes my love stronger than before! I know flowers go through rain! But how can love go through pain!" The recent song that was playing on the radio was Ain't That Peculiar by Marvin Gaye as his honey-mouthed mellifluous voice chanted the lyrics with galore of emotions and feelings raining in the instrumental apt to tandem and matching ideally with the song's ambience and vibes.

"A few clients have passed through this door and I can't go to the nearby chain store to buy some fruit for here!" In the interval, the both young women seated alongside one another whilst Madeleine was having her morning coffee in a plain floral mug, whereas her pristinely dainty, long fingers braced the mug handle and lugging the marbled entity, in order to hydrate herself with modicum of caffeine lacing her tongue and oral caverns eventually. A flat line adorned the Michiganian's roseate lips. It was neither an angelically vibrant smile, nor a fiendishly despondent frown.

"You will be fine, Maddie!" The suddenness of Cassandra's nimbleness ghostwriting her elvish, delicate hand clawing amicably, lightly her friend's shoulder blade didn't ignite the very flames of horripilative startlingness spiking her milky epidermis. Gentle squeeze followed by a wryly light-hearted, angelical snicker bubbled up from the older woman's feminine Adam's apple whilst boring her chocolate brown embers into the hazelish-brown. Twains of chocolate and hazel potently magnifying the great deal of magnetism, subsequently tinging the Michiganian's well-sculptured, chubby cheeks with healthily vermillion hue, hypodermically crawling underneath her facial skin. "I can go to the nearby chain store to purchase abundance of fruit for us to keep our stomachs filled with healthy, biological entities instead chemistry." A benevolently megawatt huge grin curved Cassandra's nude pink mouth to twitch its own lips rapidly rabid, whilst lingering her fingers on the cotton bubblegum sweater's attire and manipulating her fingertips and digits to circle the frequently soothing motions.

"You don't have to do it for me, Cass! I'll be fine to do it on my own." Dawdling the brace of her delicate fingers to tandem the grapple of her porcelain mug, consequently the Michiganian channelized her physical strength to lift up repetitively the entity, in order to swig cordially a handful of tiny sips as the rim of the mug gingerly grazed beneath the raw spot of her bottom lip.

"Since you're the younger one, you better stay here and take care of the things until I get back," Managing to discard her hand from Madeleine's shoulder blade, throughout the dexterous motion of the older woman to cup in the palms of her delicate hands her friend's profile, whilst her grin was replaced with a benevolently sympathetic smile beaming vibrantly sunny at her, in order to soften her youthfully fresh facial attributes. "It won't take more than a few minutes for my return, Maddie!" Then the younger lady dumped her cup of caffeine beverage on top of the hardwood bureau whilst channeling her arms to brace Cassandra's upper back at last being all ears. "Okay?"

"Okay!" Managing a nod in strong agreement even when the Michiganian wasn't very fond of the others to pamper her and bloodthirstily villainous to satiate her needs, then the older woman lifted up her rear from the chair and retrieved her personal purse from the second drawer of the bureau as the juvenile blonde reclined leisurely, fussily against her seat, flickering up her hazelish-brown optics to scan her friend's petite frame fully. "Take care!" Shortly before dashing out of the site, the older blonde pressed a platonically affectionate, creamy peck on top of the Michiganian's head and stroking featherly-soft the recently kissed spot with her orthodoxy smooth fingertips.

"Of course, Cass! Always anything for you!"

"Good girl!" A couple of moments before retiring to outdoors, the Vermontian ushered her forefinger teasingly amiable to point at the younger blonde and swapping with one another healthily guttural, blatantly beatific giggles droning the flower store interior's background, participating boldly to choir with the playing music.

"Ain't that peculiar? A peculiar-arity! Ain't that peculiar, baby? Peculiar as can be! Oh, you tell me lies that should be obvious to me! But I'm so much in love with you, baby, 'till I don't want to see!"

"Ain't that peculiar?" As soon as the flower store's interior emptied with a person less, meantime, the blonde's coffee-stained, glossy lips curled in chanting diligently mellifluous the lyrics, in spite of her lacking talent in singing, but she really enjoyed to annoy her older brother and the others that could scarcely bear her artificial singing voice to accent the chansons' lyrics, clapping her hands and escorting boldly the rhythm as her legs folded. "A peculiar arity!" Suddenly the door whined infamously and catching off guard the blonde when the journalist stepped inside the flower store as her persona was unfamiliar to the young woman except what she has harked about her so far. "Good day, ma'am!"

"Good day, miss!" A primly beaming, villainous smile tugged at the corner of Lana's bloody red painted lip, darting her coffee brown optics to prong the unfamiliar blonde.

In a long minute of uncomfortably sinister, bone-chilling hush strangling headstrongly the female pairing while the Bostonian managed to survey in a scrutiny the wooden-framed Polaroid photograph of the flower store owner with the former pious woman of the cloth, oblivious to the Michiganian's leery stare scanning her facial attributes to acknowledge her additional intentions that were far cry from detectable and tangible at first sight.

"M-My Goodness! Sister Jude!" Solely distinctive the lowered decibels transmuted into a muffled girlishly sheepish whisper curling Lana's lower cherub lip, whilst manifesting to paw gingerly, mousy her delicate jaw as her coffee brown jewels kindling with luminously fierce inquisitiveness and slyness, yet oblivious to Madeleine's incredulous scintillating glare draining off each vibrantly aglitter colour of her milky face. Furthermore, something incredulous skeptical donned up in its thin veil the enigmatically bewildering attitude of the recent visitor in the flower store's interior that evolved the juvenile blonde's very hurricane of thoughts to masterize her own speculative theories behind the thin veil of enigmatically skepticism shimmering its somberly hazy nuances past her vision.

"Are you actually there for flowers or plants to purchase, ma'am?" During her iron-willed attempt to detect the brunette's crucial motive to populate fleetly the site, ironically melodious low hum escaped her pursed lips.

"Not at all! I was looking for some people that can give me more information about Miss Judy Martin and her boyfriend even if they are currently on honeymoon in Tennessee."

"How could you," A few self-consciously woeful stammers slipped sloppily from the blonde's tongue tip, shaking frequently her head due to the reporter's outspoken confession and opting to prevent a migraine or other kind of a headache with rubbing on circles her flimsy forehead and manipulating her fingertips to motion gently. "Testing the waters by drawing a long bow about the Howards just to put it in your pathetic upcoming story and mentioning their notorious side what they did to you back a few years ago!"

"I'm not here for," The strong-willed attempts of the reporter to elaborate a retaliation while dozens of vowels and syllables awkwardly sluggish limped backward and forward in the beginning of her dry, strawberry-coloured tongue, softening her young-looking, delicate facial features due to the authoritatively bellicose flower store's saleswoman.

"For what?" Raising an arch of her thin, elegantly dark eyebrow whilst folding her arms across her ribcage to demonstrate her authoritatively nonchalant, bellicose nature that brightly contrasted with the unbelievably diligent, painstaking other protagonist fragmenting her general character. The sardonically outstanding interruption of the journalist's stutter articulating her retaliation against the Michiganian's ironical reprimands registered the restless fidgety motion of the older woman's fingers."I can smell your sweet lies and your journalistic shallow mind just to owe you anything I am not under an obligation to you actually, Miss Winters! You are on fire on about the water under the bridge just to be blind leading the blinds that is called your circle of fans to believe any quantity of your fabrications in your forthcoming book like for example about Jude and Timothy as great examples."

"I'm not lying. I want to find out about their nowadays lives. It doesn't hurt the knowledge."

"That things you do and say are designed to make me blue! It's a doggone shame my love for you makes all your lies seem true! But if the truth makes love last longer! Why do lies make my love stronger? (stronger, stronger, stronger)! Ain't that peculiar? Peculiar as can be!"

"Oh hi there, Cass and Lydia!" When the door swung widely opened at the prospect of the homosexual police officer accompanied by the young mother of two children grasping a handful of plastic bags with variety of fruit such as green and red apples, bananas, oranges and fern green pears while they overlooked the prying journalist.

The truth eventually was that, in spite of Lydia's lewd demeanor back on Valentine's Day towards Jude, she often paid a visit to the flower store to fulfill her sacred atonement with frequent colloquy with the flower store saleswomen. Moreover, Lydia Jane cordially relished each second she spent in Cassandra, Andrea, Madeleine and Judy's company as well.

"Lydia, sweetie!"

"Yes, Maddie?"

"Could you get that prying journalist out of my flower store for asking a bit too much about Jude and Timothy's nowadays life without their consent?"

"Of course, anything for you, Maddie!" At the moment, the police officer registered to non-verbally drag out the reporter from the flower store's interior, whereas the young mother of two retreated back to her seat and settled the plastic bags with fruit on top of the desk.

\- The Next Morning -

\- 9th of April, 1966 -

When the beginning of the weekend became a victim of the wee hours of the morning's lull, consequently the pale gilt sunny light streamed through the hospital's window.

It was high time for Sebastian and Martha to flee the medical façade after severely persistently recovering from their unthinkably afflictive injuries and wounds of the accident situated a couple of days ago.

As soon as the young medical student came to her senses and fashioning into balled fists her elvish, creamily milky hands to rub her groggy minerals and afterwards muffling a blatantly impulsive yawn until her cinnamon brown minerals landed on the other hospital bed and noting the significantly very essential details such as the messily crinkled bed sheets and the unwrapped oyster-white blanket. Presumably her uncle was gone either to the bathroom or on the contrary fled their patient room. Strangely doctors' very presences didn't populate the site.

All of a sudden, the nefariously bone-chilling subtle sound of swaying immobile body until the juvenile brunette's gaze didn't land on her uncle's corpse and her classy, elegantly exquisite emerald green scarf tightly emphatic, invincibly bided his throat on the window's handle as her heart sunk in the mistily abysmal, blood-curdlingly timeless ocean of heartbreak, in fact, her uncle committed suicide without her knowledge until the demise's scenario vividly leaked in front of her after waking up.

"Oh God!" Refraining to craft series of emotionally miserable, heinously hysterical bewails at the top of her lungs whilst twin fat crystalline tears trickled down her frail chubby, ghostly pale cheeks, clawing docilely her chapped mouth and scarcely averting her gawk in mortified awe. "Oh no!" Rowdy, desperate bewail dripped sloppily uncontrollable from her mouth.

**Author's Note: Another cliffhanger that emerges per a few chapters at least. **

**What are your thoughts on Lana's reborn? Do you think Jude and Timothy made the best decision about the interview? What do you think about Sebastian's final scene or rather the real motive of the cliffhanger? **

**Don't be shy and share with me your real thoughts! I would love to hear them! I hope you liked and enjoyed the new chapter! :))**


	34. Ashes In Your Mouth

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"Despite my apprehension and prejudices, I'll take the utter responsibility to face the apocalyptic tribulations of the publicists to defend our family and our image instead of chasing the rainbow of picturing a peaceful life even when the journalists' quietness is a cold day in July. And I almost forgot to mention I saw the fifth door on this floor,"

"There's something fishy behind it! As soon as I got back in the hotel from the jogging, because I didn't see that on my way outside just a half an hour ago or so. "

"It's not just a sister of the church anymore, Miss Winters! Don't try harder to call them with their clerical titles that they wore just months ago! It's like eating the food that was thrown in the garbage bin and recycled with other remnants of the garbage!"

"I'm essentially there in Hartford because they are about to have an upcoming interview due in June!"

"For what? I can smell your sweet lies and your journalistic shallow mind just to owe you anything I am not under an obligation to you actually, Miss Winters! You are on fire on about the water under the bridge just to be blind leading the blinds that is called your circle of fans to believe any quantity of your fabrications in your forthcoming book like for example about Jude and Timothy as great examples."

"I'm not lying. I want to find out about their nowadays lives. It doesn't hurt the knowledge."

"Oh God! Oh no!"

"Oh God!" Paradoxally icy paroxysm sprawled beneath Martha's muscles and perpetually petering out the physical stamina engulfing into her knees, managing to muffle the quiet sniffle whilst darting her doe, guiltlessly tearful cinnamon brown big, roundish optics to the exquisitely polished coat rack with her and Sebastian's rucksacks draped on the hooks, in order to prevent an eventual migraine due to the bone-chillingly mortifying scene, oblivious to the wheelchair accompanying the left side of her patient bed. "Oh no!" The thoughtlessly helpless attempts to jam her dispirited sable sobs break her flimsy facial expression apt to threadbare the tissues of her stark patience.

A long minute of heinously deliriously melancholic sobs echoing through the site's walls and tempest of stormy coherent waves of her roar speared the isolation the walls provided.

The great medley of hysteria, heart break and inebriating melancholy billowed up the young woman's boiling emotions in an individual cauldron of its fantastic amalgam and erupted up its cataract streaming from her puffy, vermillion orbs.

Martha couldn't control even an ounce of her inexorable emotions that composed its own symphony of her roar. It was her Achilles' Heel to harness her own emotions and feelings in such tough moments where her heart was mincing its own tiny, vulnerably glassy fragments on thousand particles of the remnants.

She couldn't bring back the time whenever she wasn't conscious yet to keep her wits about Sebastian's final moments before taking his own life balefully ominous and in the least villainously fierce, afflictive form even though his oblivion to Martha's exuberantly passionate lament over his demise. He was already dead after all. Sebastian couldn't feel anything. Even he scarcely could feel a mortal's sable soul, curling frostily rabid inside the frail ribcage. Anyway his soul lingered its own emphatically leisure, aimless wandering on the expansive, crudely cold world nonetheless.

There was always deadline for the formal mortals' souls to attain utterly peace with themselves until their final, impending destination to heaven or hell wherever their souls genuinely deservedly to be accommodated for an ethereal eternity. Ethereal eternity that was a foreign exemplar in its realistically meaningful notion for every mortal until their souls no longer harbored inside their energetically functioning, ominously signaling figures and seeking their own other home when the days were fully numbered. Nobody couldn't outlive anybody even for a century. But the possibilities of outlasting with a year or so any mortal was highly feasible eventually.

Even if it's been a few days since the both Gray family members' stay in one of the Waterbury's hospitals, anyway the young woman obtained indispensable information in the forms of heinous woes and fortunate news. On one hand, her unborn little sweet ray of sunshine survived after the Vermont State Hospital's break as the window was the last hope for the medical student and her uncle to seek their bloodthirstily yearned escape. On other hand, the doctors and nurses broke the unfortunately rueful news to her that after jumping from a tall building even if it the incident's estimation objected from no higher floor than the first, consequently the wheel chair wouldn't be objected from her daily life's regular transport even for brief journeys to the kitchen or to the bathroom, in order to fulfill her own needs and chores.

What the medical student could scarcely picture to individually do such as even the merest engagements even if they take less than a half an hour were taking a shower. That could cost her opulence of arduously great deal of efforts melding the humongously strenuous might escorting reassuringly the efforts. Notwithstanding the circumstances, Martha didn't have any experience with wheelchair and taking care of people that struggled with similar disabilities even bathing and preparing warm, majestically mouth-watering meals for them. Little did the juvenile medical student know how to cope with the current back-breaking task that's going to be part of her chaotic daily schedule. To use wheelchair and frequently manipulating her fingers to work on the wheels, in order to accelerate somehow the speed to channel gradually the process of the wheelchair's doubtless mobility. Even though the brunette is going to confront abundance of her peers' medley of facial expressions clearly lucid to be perused in the corner of her eye interpreted between incredibly panicked, achromatically nonplussed and primly rapturous, unlike her peers that appeared to be in the beginning of their twenties, her professors' faces and nude pink lips would be contorted into angelically compassionate, altruistically caring grimaces with a handful of exceptions.

It seemed like almost no one cared about the young lady's sinisterly relentless, venomously afflictive adversities wallowing her into the bloodthirsty covet by the demons and shadows of the past casted in the most sable, smoggy outskirts of the sites where her figure's illumination saturated against the reflection of her jet-black silhouette dancing rhythmically to every motion constricting her muscles.

Or rather, a few people of her inner circle in general would get attach to her even in her toughest moments when her adversities exuberantly clouded her vortex of thoughts. Her father not only excessively denigrated her and creamily emphatic billowed up each ounce of her self-esteem, but also demonstrated straightforward signs of aggression towards his only daughter that has once genuinely, cordially loved him platonically. Her uncle that impregnated her just a handful of months ago no longer inhabits the ginormous, nevertheless, menacingly raw world. Only her older brother Andy and older cousin Morgan Jill could be her last hopes during her tough moments when her physical disability severely impacted its own venomously lethal, apocalyptic affliction and agony on her.

The explicitly graphic, unavoidable flashbacks of the past few days when her uncle could motion and contract any muscle of his anatomy and could course its snort through his nose and the fat of his spongy, strawberry-coloured tongue perkily crafted series of vowels and syllables' compounds in their own constructions of outspoken confessions. Martha pearly missed each single moment that she has dearly spent with Sebastian.

There was no peculiar formula to rewind back in the time when he was still alive. There was no peculiar supernatural power to spellbind its hex to resuscitate his immobile, stiff mortality and hoary demise's recurring shrine spreading up to his toes. The true sentiment of somber homesickness rumbled through the chaotic hurricane of thoughts of the young medical student whilst folding her legs to readjust her seating posture until another faint sway of the hung out corpse of her uncle didn't rotate utterly to face her as his big, rotund cinnamon brown depths emotionlessly perniciously gaped at her as if the demise was an invisible spectral and mirroring the former mortal's lifeless replica to grant multiple frigid chills to their beloved relatives and nobodies that behold the immobile corpse.

"Miss Gray," The suddenness of the emphatically hasty venture of two affable nurses inside the patient room without a warning didn't break Martha's facial expression when the older woman approximately in her late thirties rushed to approach her, opting to grapple her chin with a handful of fragilely slim, olive-tanned fingers, in order to tilt faintly her head to meet her demanding gaze coiled into altruistic concern and sheer benevolence, whereas her colleague managed to survey in a studious scrutiny the strangled dead body of the middle-aged man. In spite of Nurse Fiorella Ethel's iron-willedly obdurate attempts to reassure her patient and acknowledge the genuine motives of her hysterical sorrow and melancholia, the brunette's stubborn objection to accomplish an appropriate maintenance in the form of a brief eye contact with the older woman didn't abet Fiorella Ethel at all.

"I didn't murder him." The heavier the sobs escalated, more rowdy the inward inhales the brunette's runny nose lodged, scarcely darting her stare to the redhead with her peripheral vision whilst diminishing abruptly the decibels of her starkly plain-spoken, low-spirited revelation. In the interim, thickness contracted her feminine Adam's apple and struggling to swig greedily the bittersweet flavor of the thick lump, whereas her puffy, doe cocoa brown embers hunkered down to eye blankly, glassily the space wee bump and her rigidly shapeless, conveniently casual baby green patient gown nonetheless, generously traded mutually. "I just woke up and I found out my uncle committed suicide with hanging out with my scarf." The incoherence sloppily gliding through Martha's naturally roseate, deliciously plumpish lips, twitched into the pointless, bland explaination she owed to the friendly nurse about the staged suicide scenario where her bare hands didn't have any involvement of Sebastian's eventual demise. It felt like a harmless child explaining to her parents that it didn't break on its own the porcelain vase as instead it was the pet's fault.

"I genuinely understand how upset you're, Miss Gray!" At the moment, the middle-aged lady draped one of her satin, chubby arms to secure the medical student's upper back and drawing her into a consoling, platonically tender embrace whilst her other hand worked on warmly, soothingly encouraging rubbing on circles her shoulder blade as the patient bundled partly her tear-stained, turgid complexion into her bulky bosom seeking its platonically mellow, unconditional consolation, wrenching shut her eyelids to efficiently allow the cataract of crystalline, gracefully spongy stream of tears eased its richness to trickle down her well-carved cheeks. "I can call your cousin and brother to pick you up in a few minutes and before that to have a glass of water or to help you with using the en-suite bathroom, Miss!"

"Just a glass of water and to go home finally!" Dawdling her angelically elvish, olive-tanned protective hand to paw her fleshy upper back, the older lady resumed kneading featherly-soft, soothingly nirvanic after wedging the circles' massage spot, whereas a weak, sunny smile twirled nimbly across her delicate facial attributes. "I'm just sick and tired of this madness." Sobbing uncommonly quieter than moments ago, the heart pulses the both ladies shared after their torsos unconditionally close inched, the rhythmical synchronization of the vehement heart pulses throbbing into their ears, outnumbering the heart monitor's dull noises and the further background dins.

"You will be fine, Miss Gray! I'll call your relatives to pick you up by promising me at least to take care of yourself." Shortly before breaking off the embrace, the nurse's bottom lusciously cherub bloody red-painted lip parted in the reassuring, emboldeningly warm ministration conveying its friendly reminder to Martha to take care of herself and lowly humming a mellifluous tune, jingling its honey-mouthed angelic anthems into her petite, flexible ears. "Stay strong, dear young lady!"

"Fiorella, I think I found something that clearly explains the Mister's real motives before dwelling out of the mortal's world!" As soon as the co-worker of Fiorella Ethel participated in the platonically intimate space the duo exchanged with each other, an austere grimace twisted upon her light-heavy wrinkles and flat line, flattening her conservative mauve-painted mouth while her translucent baby-green gloved-clad fingers crooked around the sheet of paper with the pencil embroidered illustration of a plain, childlike person strangled to death that caught off guard Martha and Fiorella Ethel as they shot their gawks to the blank. A brief text under the poorly illustrated sketch vividly candid engulfed their gawks even profounder.

**Sky deep blue, very bright sun, sand all gone**

The heedlessly sloppy scribble embroidered on the blank under the poorly drawn sketch with its undeniably detectable manuscript glimmered out its grizzle boldness past the trio's optics. Nonplus and befuddlement fantastically melded and scintillatingly irradiated Martha's tearfully doe coffee brown depths and struggling to sort her mind even when it was clearly impossible for her to detect the genuine notion behind Sebastian's final words and childish illustration with pencil before committing suicide viciously.

"I really don't understand this context." Gulping profusely the thickness compressing her throat while continuously examining the real context of the paper, darting her dry tongue to hydrate sufficiently her upper and lower chapped lips, shaking frequently her head in solemn disagreement to be familiar with anything associated with the last words embroidered on a separate lacuna, whereas the ginger channeled the quizzically questionable incline of her dark, well-shaped eyebrow that matched with her reassuring sanctums of ocean blue. "Or rather what it supposed to mean. He was the salt of the earth and he takes me back to the splendid memories we collected through the years. He was even much better than my father."

"In a New York minute you will be home or at least out of there, Miss!" The senior nurse's mouth elaborated the optimistically assuring, persuasive caution to the juvenile patient, registering a swift shot at the sheet of paper for a split second and then returning her gaze to her promisingly, invitingly sympathetic. "I just want you to calm down, while Nurse Fiorella will bring you a glass of water and will call your relatives." At the moment, the hypodermically frosty paralysis formidably stitched nimbly past Martha's dainty facial attributes while the redhead channeled her arms to readjust the disabled inmate in the wheel chair and shortly before retiring to exit the site, she manipulated her hand to stroke her long mop of licentiously tousled, greasy brown tresses as her brittle fingertips and digits raked gingerly every hairy tissue.

\- Flashback -

\- A Couple of Hours Ago -

Once the very wee hours of the morning bled into the twilight, yet nocturnally sable lull looming the horizon and barely obscuring the darkest nuances of sable to portray the early morning's realistic, abstract landscape, consequently the middle-aged gentleman's eyelids pinched broadly opened at the ebony, shadowy darkness swaddling cozily its own children of the dark. Fortunately, not any single nurse or a doctor has set foot inside the patient room to supervise the duo's persistent, unceasing recovery.

When the middle-aged gentleman ushered his mammoth, masculinely veiny hand to muffle a blatantly slurred yawn, in order to diminish the megawatt decibels of his grogginess, thereafter he hopped up in the cozy slippers and managed to lurch towards the light switcher as his pristinely long, deft fingers clumsily, lazily strong-willed fumbled the fern green wall until they peaked eventually to something solider. Something different. Something less soft than the pleasant, abstract smoothness of the fern green walls grazed underneath his frail fingertips. The light switcher. In a single click, the artificial gilded light enveloped the bulb and contagiously transfusing bountifully to lit up celestially fiendish the surroundings that were once obscured from detection even with a bare eye.

Bleating a guttural, vapid grunt under her breath, fortunately, Martha didn't have any intentions of participating in the insomniac party of her uncle while flipping on the other side subconsciously and manifesting to grapple firmer the duvet and yet her brittle elvish, marbled hands white-knuckled, billowing up its callousness texturing the anatomy's physique.

Even more the Italian compatriot genuinely hoped he didn't wake up his niece from the nocturnal beauty coma and registering to shoot a fleetly shrewd glance at her emotionless, blank profile. She looked stunning even when she was slumbering peacefully.

"Phew! That was frankly close!" Eroding perpetually the decibels into an inwardly mousy mewl when he tiptoed warily towards his nightstand to retrieve the pencil and a separate sheet of paper from the top drawer, consequently the middle-aged gentleman aimed to the en-suite bathroom without an ado. Without being spotlighted as if a deer viciously ominous, cold-blooded was caught highlighted in the middle of the night, horrified and quavering devilishly bashful.

When the Italian compatriot surreptitiously ventured inside the en-suite bathroom and diligently humbly shut the door behind him, in order to not get caught by his niece, meanwhile he seated comfortably on the toilet seat and bleated a wickedly breathy, fiendish groan elaborated at the top of his lungs once his bare rear perched recklessly on the unknowledgeably chilly furniture at last.

Then Sebastian adjusted the empty sheet of paper to wedge his bare thigh and manipulating the pencil's edge to drabble heedfully his childish sketch of a person strangled to death, fixating his chocolate brown minerals, glittering out the restless puffiness embroidering his eyeballs.

Sebastian felt not only betrayed by his own younger brother who didn't dare even to pay a visit once to the hospital during his heinously, tremendously obdurate recovery from the plenty of glass bruises and wounds, but also it broke his heart how much Martha suffered shortly before her arrival in Waterbury up to now. Martha was literally the best thing that has ever happened in his life along with the unborn daughter they're expecting to be due in November. Instead of the lake of infernal affliction and agony to stream its tiny rivulets submerging his conscience and very thoughts about the nefarious serial killer, he rather preferred to choose the evanescence of the ethereal eternity beyond the afterlife's background.

He would no longer behold the foreign and familiar faces of the sorrow, happiness and moodiness. He would no longer feel the foreign and familiar sentiments of betrayal, heartbreak and numbness pummeling his conscience and vortex of thoughts. He would never fulfill the hallowed atonement with his brother. It would be immediately impossible. The impossible sometimes would be a better variant or rather version of resuming the absolute reality's arduous tribulations that shimmered out their crystalline brilliance of new. Something new. Something unfamiliar. Something challenging. Something demanding. Something speaking volumes behind its true notion.

\- End of Flashback -

\- The Following Morning -

Once the Howards woke up in the wee hours of the morning and ordered for themselves a breakfast, besides taking a fresh, lukewarm shower, subsequently they fled the hotel as they were gone to an aimless, relaxing stroll in the small city of Tennessee.

The sheer, natural brilliant sunny saturation showered its profusely timeless light to curtain beamingly eye-catching the living beings' façades, leaked flesh and attires.

"Every day of our honeymoon is full of surprises." In the meanwhile, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's leanly silken, secure arms scooped the six-month old baby in doting, unconditionally affectionate embrace whose light-heavy figure clung stubbornly to his mother's bosom, whilst his pudgy arms secured the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer's delicate expanse. The wet fat of her tongue purred the silver-tongued confession, yet the Boston lilt unamusingly stark accenting the vowels and syllables, while her honey brown minerals flicked up to prong the former holy priest's chocolate brown. Beamingly broad, purely heavenly smiles decorated their parchment complexions as a handful of strangers passed them leisurely.

"Or rather every single day, because there are even days when we dawdle to not leak outdoors," Darting his wet, strawberry-coloured tongue subtly to twirl its motion of licking greedily, gamely his upper and lower lip without wedging the swan, outstanding curve of his radiant smile, throughout the eager pursue of boring his smoky quartz bijous into his wife and baby son's gazes dotingly, invitingly maintained an appropriate eye contact though the dim glimpses at their direction. "There's always something sparkling and functioning even if we aren't interacting with somebody unfamiliar or familiar for us." The sheer wisdom sacredly ornamented the younger gentleman's utterance, whereas the former pious sister of the church channeled her head to humbly bob in the agreement.

"Indeed! Even if there are small cities like Adams that have nothing to offer with galore of landmarks to inspire tourists or civilians like them," All of a sudden, the wed pairing passed past the Adams' Central Cemetery where the sign labeled the precise location with a darkened fir wooden sign and bold manuscript inscribing exquisitely authentic, sublimely eye-catching each letter forming the three words, where a huge mass of people whose ages fluctuated between young and old honored the very memories of their deceased relatives and friends. From a distance, throng of gravestones exquisitely billowed up the sage grassland accompanying the monumentally lonely trees that were ornamented with marvelously grandiose, multi-coloured freshly flourished crowns. Fortunately, the throng of nobodies that populated almost each inch of the graveyard outnumbered elegantly the gravestones' quantity. Some of them were kneeling before the average sized entities, whereas the majority of the cemetery's visitants were either engulfed in a tight, consolingly warm hugs or allowing the luxurious cataract of their crystalline soar tears to vacate its luminously translucent beads blotching the marbled entities and dimly the grassland's sage. Tears, stronger than the motivationally versatile, divinely heavenly desires. Weaker than the daredevily steadfast, inexorable death. Sooner or later everyone's forthcoming or rather their final destination was to be buried and no longer beholding the day's beaming light and the other mortals' unmasked faces of their primness. "At least, there's something unique about any place that leaves a constant scar of memories to spawn in yar mind. It's sprawling out its explicit vividness of the memories you've collected even from such teeny-weeny cities like Adams. The ambience is beyond peaceful. The community of people equate to friendly. We are being surrounded by the nature. It's pleasantly balmy the weather that dance around us."

"It reminds me of a school trip my elementary school teacher organized to City of Ripon when I was approximately eight years old. I remember so far that the weather was quite soggy, howsoever," In the meantime, the British compatriot manipulated a snort to course through his nostrils followed by a half-heartedly hoarse, healthily jovial chuckle expelling from his mouth when a handful of the boneyard visitants drifted their piercing, tearfully puffy, doe gazes, glinting their rueful sorrow and pure curiosity to acknowledge the distinctive voices of the non-native Tenneessians roved circa their current location. "Howsoever, I and a few of my elementary school classmates had such a glamorous time. It's just unforgettable how a few words I emitted are worth a thousand golden memories."

"Tell me more about it!" The middle-aged woman boring her caramel brown cabochons into the former devotional clergyman's cinnamon brown, purely childish untouchable enthusiasm twinkled into her indiscernible jet-black pupils, whereas the clumsy tarry of the broad, wonderfully radiant smile etched to expand a tad across the former nun's mouth. Her elvish, yet protectively creamy hands ushered to bounce and swing faintly, tenderly their baby son in her scooped hug. "I'm veritably interested. Spill the tea!"

"Well, we traveled on plane the whole class including me and my elementary school teacher Ms. Atkinson to City of Ripon! It was a private plane, you know!" His strawberry-coloured, wet tongue crafted the ocean of vowels and syllables refilling the confession of the celestially vivid, aureate memory of the former aspiring Monsignor's childhood during his school years and one of his most memorable school trips to one of the smallest cities of his birth country. Meantime, the middle-aged lady honed her petite, vulnerable ears to the monologue's outspokenness to room her eardrums and then convey its assimilated information to her mind. Another faintly ferocious spring, balmy breeze fanned their couple's exposed bare fleshes and hairs, whilst Edward Ralph purred series of blatantly sweet, mellow coos and soothing babbles subconsciously while struggling to drift off asleep in his mother's securely doting arms. "It took us almost four hours until we established eventually in Ripon. Then it took us hours to wander the city just to see the fabulous, astonishing landmarks as Ms. Atkinson took us to galore of places to see for ourselves. Even the most famous landmarks like the Ripon Cathedral and Workhouse Museum were amidst the top places we didn't miss at all." The gracefully kindhearted touch of the sun lanced sinisterly thick layer of electrifying goosebumps seeding onto their epidermis and pursuing eagerly for the figures to stroke gently, promisingly inviting with its scintillating, warm saturation. Yet the promiscuous resplendent of the explicitly unforgettable, untouchable memories flaked perpetually the younger man's chaotically functioning tornado of thoughts.

"That's genuinely intriguing! Have yar say!"

"And the homes of the people varied between small like those cute and humble cottages and huge like mansions, howsoever, the mansions-like façades were less common, you know!"

"Mama! Dada!" Even though the wed parents extinguished their attention from the infant due to their abysmally logical and rational discussions they exchanged on their aimlessly respite from their stiff stay inside the nefarious hotel, an ice-cream seller accompanying diligently mousy the machine for vanilla and chocolate ice-cream inching the trio a few feet away. Oblivious to the landscape of the ice-cream seller, subsequently the six-month old infant registered to point with his pudgy forefinger directly at the older gentleman and flicking up his hazelish-brown jewels at the duo, kindling the very flames of childlike guiltlessness and warm affection. The genuine sanctums of the child soul or rather the youngest soul in the Howards' small household.

"What is it, my little cherub angel?" In the meanwhile, the former pious holy woman was caught off guard, struggling to conjugate the unevenly healthy, graciously startled gasp at the top of her brittle lungs, whereas channeling the sheer manipulation of her honey brown jewels on the six-month old baby's round, parchment façade. A handful of chromatically colourful butterflies maneuvering the vehemently sparkly flip of their wings hovered around the couple. "Look, there are magnificent butterflies!" The haphazardness of the blonde's caramel brown depths drifted to follow each perkily restless motion of the butterflies flipping eagerly their wings and circling them nimbly buffed a graciously exquisite grin parting her lips in a wide O and leaking her pearly-white teeth, consequently she darted her gaze back to the infant as Timothy examined in a scrutiny the scarlet butterfly which recently boldly perched on top of his nose. "Ya particularly meant them?"

"How adorable! I'm getting the picture what it feels like flapping the wings of your childish side." A boyishly healthy, guttural snicker left the former aspiring Monsignor's mouth as the trio halted in the stop to inspect in a scrutiny the beehive of butterflies and midst them, only one settling cozily on top of his nose and mischievously ticklish teasing the delicate, ghostly pale tissue. The dim motion of the flapping wings of the insect didn't cease the series of inflecting the breathy, recklessly childlike snickers under his breath, solely audible for the Howards. "I wish I turn back the hands of time. I feel deadly old in that body and with that very soul."

"Time is money, darling!" Following the true twitch of the first two insects' of their wings and restlessly unmerciful jockeying the sharp flick and hovering away their weightless, wee figures in an aimlessly different direction of the naturally photogenic, majestically luxurious illustration of the very nature, suddenly the older lady drifted her attention and darting a playfully authentic wink at her husband, continuously bouncing their son in her scooped embrace. "We all desire to alter the clock's arrows and our fingers stubbornly getting rawly hurt, because it was worth to do it but we don't have that ability at all. It was all flying just like the butterflies and they don't come back unless if it's some kind of a destiny or a coincidence that just smashes you a slap across yar face."

"Mama! Dada!" Stilling the outstanding point at the ice-cream seller whose meaty masculinely potent fingers danced around his glass of refreshingly lukewarm lemonade and constricting shut his eyelids to utterly dedicate his leisure to the balmy spring climate that was pretty common for the central-east part of the large country.

"Yes, little sweet ray of sunshine? Ya want an ice-cream? Don't you?" At the moment, the youngster's wet, spongy tongue sloppily elaborated an unintelligible babble, sufficiently coherent for the parents to fathom the context behind their son's insistence. "No?" Once Edward Ralph managed to shake recurring his head formatting his disagreement to masticate some ice-cream, consequently the middle-aged woman registered to pinch playfully ticklish with a couple of fingers his well-sculptured, chubby cheek and escorting its mischievously rich giggle. "Then what it could be?" A feather-soft snort floated from the former ambitious Monsignor's tiny, flexible nostrils shortly after the scarlet butterfly flew away and distanced emphatically from the small horde of people populating the outdoor site, whereas struggling to steer a pensive, brief purse wedging his baby-pinkish, deliciously plump lips. "Ya want me to have an ice-cream. Don't you?" Then the youngster channelized his head in a solemn bob, reaffirming his mother's posed question begging for an immediate response.

\- A Couple of Hours Later or So -

\- The Following Day -

A day off from work could be rather interpreting the full weekend routine for the former prostitute, Andrea, factly, after heinously strong-willedly accomplishing her engagements and accommodating to run the flower store during the Howards' absence due to their honeymoon in Tennessee, thus Andrea didn't bother to pay a visit to one of her friends' workplace. The last time whenever Nikita and the former prostitute have behold one another was a handful of weeks ago at least especially after when she woke up next to her ex-love interest's hopelessly frigid, sinisterly immobile dead body in the wee hours of the morning and in order to get rid off of the corpse she relied on phoning her closest friends except Frank who has finished his night shift on the parking as a security guard.

In a few hours spent behind the graciously fresh painted walls of the doctor's office that has accepted a couple of immensely fretful physically and mentally patients and seeking agitatedly a professional council from a professional medical expert, during the eminently remarkable and formal arranged provisos between the doctor and the patients even non-patient nobodies hunting to fish out a veritably fundamental council, Andrea didn't pay much attention to the visitants except for their body language and dialogues swapped between the Texian and them.

The profuse mantle of the huge, roundish sun transferably pierced the broadly opened curtains-clad window and passionately enthusiastically sieving the office in divinely heavenly golden light, emulating to the natural light and stunningly eye-catching curtaining the female duo's complexions while seating against each other.

"It seems you're having quite busy day today." In the interval, the female platonic pairing exchanged cups of refreshing, happily steamy hot milk pooling their cups as their orthodoxy delicate, spidery fingers dangled circa the small entities for beverages. Huskily Wisconsin lilt generously foregrounded extraordinarily the Wisconsinian's straightforward confession, casting her jet-black gemstones at the promising cocoa brown. "Isn't that a blue moon, is it?" Rhetorically chanting the inquiry, throughout the Texian maneuvered to incline quizzically a dark, elegantly thin eyebrow articulating her recent humor starkly raw embossing across her charming facial attributes. A beamingly broad, candidly doe smile etched upon the both women's naturally roseate, plumpish lips.

"Andrea, it's like the other days. Blue moons are the days when I have a tad work or otherwise freaking exhausting one!" Thoughtlessly spontaneous heaving the heavily abrupt exhale streaming its cataract of refreshing oxygen nailing her frail lungs, while ushering her delicate, brittle fingers to convey non-verbally the cup of happily hot alabaster liquid to take a meekly tiny, hedonistic sip after faintly charring her berry-coloured tongue and her brim lips. "It's changeable around the clock. You don't know how many patients and people will set foot there and starting whining about symptoms of certain illness they're encountering lately." The purely nonchalant cadence creamily lazy shelved from her milk-stained, richly glossy mouth tingling angelic anthems into the older woman's ears whose jet-black gems fixated on the wooden framed Polaroid photograph of the Afro-American posing with her colleagues outside the hospital, buffing their sunny smiles spread across their mouths to sparkle vibrantly the vibes and the photogenic landscape of the hospital's staff.

All of a sudden, the initial dings of the pitch-black handset pierced the very walls of the office and catching off guard Andrea and Nikita as their muscles manifested to quiver shyly and their facial expressions greatly strained. The heart pulses jovially morbid amplified the hammers into their vulnerable ears and into their frail chests.

The ordinary embarrassing moments when the phone was rowdy humming in the room composing its own humdrumly uproarious ballad tingling alarming tones into the doctor and the former hooker's tissues, exceedingly escalated each phone call's unique eminence.

"Just a second of silence, please!" The suddenness of the Afro-American channelizing her delicate, orthodoxy creamy fingers to lug the weight of the mug of the light liquid as her mouth wrapped around the rim of the shaft, then leaving it aloof on top of her bureau and snatching the earpiece instantly thoughtless, whereas transfixing her friendly, glowing gaze on the Wisconsinian."This is Dr. Nikita Acacia Grimes!" The choir of gruesomely restless blinks stung the blonde's eyelids while ushering her naturally nude pink, delightfully plumpish lips to zip in a thoughtful, humbly mousy purse and folding her arms across her chest, while lingering the brace of her pleasantly warm, soothingly creamy fingers circa the small entity for beverages.

"Doctor, can you give me Ms. Drake for a moment to speak to her?"

"Of course, Mister!" Meantime, the Texian timidly protracted the ebony earpiece to her friend whose one of her elvish, marbled hands gladly accepted the offer and clung the entity to her ear nonetheless, whilst sipping of the mug of hot milk and throughout dumping it aside on top of the bureau, scarcely dividing a couple of inches proximity with the other cup. "Andrea, somebody wants to speak to you!" In spite of the purely hair-rising prejudices behind the enigmatic gentleman's persona who was crucial perpetrator of calling via the Texian's phone number to fathom the recent location of the former prostitute and accommodate a brief colloquy with her for a handful of minutes. The profoundly raspy undertones puncturing Cayden's masculinity and eeriness even if he didn't traded a site with somebody else. Sufficiently eerie and hinky to convey coherent waves of invincibly inescapable, abysmally blood-curdling chills to perforating abruptly the epidermis with ocean of horripilation.

"This is Andrea Heather Drake!" The haphazardness of the Wisconsin lilt razor-edgedly relentless rousing her idle declaim, yet the frosty chills hypodermically crawled beneath her luxurious layer of baleful horripilation, raising an arch of her thin eyebrow and squinting up her black minerals at the younger lady whose head registered a modestly encouraging, radiant nod and struggling to salute a dexterous smile flourishing across her oral slit.

"I'll connect you momentarily." The abysmally mortifying, raspy voice of the Italian compatriot sharpened his accent momentarily while the blonde's silky, soft fingers braced the sable earpiece and her eyelids forging an uneven, indiscreet blink. "Andrea?"

"Cayden!" Suddenly the Texian wrenched widened her cocoa brown minerals at her friend and an unwelcomingly spine-chilling frown busting her upper lip to twist in the grotesque grimace once the infamous serial killer's first name flashed to disquietingly uncomfortable, demurely squirming from Andrea's mouth.

"Judy Martin used to be my love interest and you came very close to be her friend."

"Excuse me?" Brilliantly dazzling bewilderment convulsed rabidly cheerful the middle-aged lady's enquiry and ushering her only free hand's fingers to cradle the mug's handle to sip of the chillier milk to recollect her train of thoughts as the heart pulses vigorously megawatt precipitated into her ribcage. A handful of minutes have aged the freshly simmered liquid even if it's mouth-watering flavor laced its preys' tongues and diminishing mildly, perpetually the temperature stabilizing the natural warmness.

"You are aware she's living with an ex-priest faggot that was the crucial reason of my arrest?"

"Y-Yes!" A few vowels and syllables to craft the stutter clumsily seethed the beginning of her tongue, whereas managing to grapple firmly a fistful of her casual wine red's mini skirt hem that joyously flared across her mid-thigh and bundling up her white-knuckled, calloused digits to joint the stabilization's strength rumbling up through her fist and fingers to plummet down the tremendously overwhelming distress of having a phone conversation with nobody else than the ill-famed, viciously bloodthirsty psychopath of Hartford.

"And how serious is your friendship?"

"Cayden, I," Another clumsy attempt to stifle her own chaotically discomfort and coyly distress to subduing its eek through the entity linking the both lines of the phone call, subsequently she muffled the sneeze as her fingertips manifested to loosen the grasp of her mini skirt and nail her nose while her lips busted to curve popped up and licking them greedily gamely the profuse layer of crystalline milkiness.

"But you still keep in touch with her. A woman who is like the other women, who has backstabbed me like my daughter and my brother did." Crudely frigid, indisputably baleful snort coursed through Cayden's nose as his solely free mammoth, alabaster hand's fingers cradled a cancer stick and taking a hedonistically graceful drag at it and curving his lips into a soft O to forge the foggy hoary dim permeating past him. "Did you honestly think that she will ruin our partnership?"

"We have never been friends or partners."

"And you should have turned her away if you had one ounce of loyalty."

A long a half a minute of intensifyingly terrifying, starkly icy doldrum settled in the thin air of the very space the serial killer and the former hooker exchanged with one another through dozens of hitched breathing and sensing the real afflictive disaster unknowledgeable sapping each healthily colorful, chromatic canvas of her facial texture and discolouring her natural skin tone. Meanwhile, a heavy, glassily jaded sigh bubbled up from the former hooker's torso and morosely incredulous bundling up underneath the thin veil of the transparency of her meager trust in the Italian compatriot.

"What's happened? Is your daughter okay?" Pretty aware of the breaking news via the radio about the freshly recent suicide of Sebastian, the middle-aged woman still seek answers associated with Cayden and Martha's relationship even if she has never felt any closure with him, nevertheless, the posed question about Martha somehow aroused her keen interest on rewinding the topic promptly without shadow of a doubt.

"You don't have the right to ask me that question." Austerely rawness smoothly prominent roared through the Italian compatriot's vocal tissues when readjusting his seating posture on his threadbare, scruffily old tangerine sofa while afflictively sore paralysis powdered the darkened hue of the Norwegian compatriot's façade, melding with the unhealthily pale canvas impaling her facial tone. "And if you do anything to illuminate the very name and reputation of the Grays, I swear to God I'll put you in your fucking grave." Coarsely husky slurs blatantly mewled against the earpiece's patchy hollow and jingling alarming tones into her eardrums after assimilating and overthinking the noxious caution erupting up the very adrenaline pumping into her veins and boiling vehemently the lava of blood to hydrate her muscles, bones and cells subtly.

Thereafter the Wisconsinian readjusted gingerly the entity back to the handset and ducking her face in the palms of her flabbergastingly warm hands to paw gently her temple, narrowing her sable cabochons at the doctor and offering her a primly vague, ruefully amiable smile incising the curve of her brim mouth.

Even if Andrea had meager encounters with the murderously ill-famed serial killer rather than with the Bostonian, yet she would rather grant her trust to her to him. Andrea couldn't betray her own very conscience just to participate in the Italian compatriot's guild.

\- Later that Day -

When the wee hours of the phenomenally inevitable night shed its crystal sable adamants blotching gradually the expansive sky with its starless canvas and big, rotund palish moon mounting all alone, the crickets' songs eloquently beatific and owls' uttering their ode of the twilight hoots piercing the buildings' walls. Everything seemed to have performed its ultimate peace hovering up the twilight horizon of the night. Adams was oddly quiet tonight except for its regular nocturnal odes streaming bountifully its eloquence through the inhabitants and tourists' façades windows.

After a persistently relaxing walk midst the small city of Tennessee's nature and trading on their aimless hike masticating some ice-cream, afterwards the pairing returned back in the nefarious hotel. Just shortly before managing to order for themselves their dinner meal to be installed right away in their booked room, consequently the former promiscuous jazz nightclub singer seated on the convenient onyx ottoman donned up in nothing else than her loose angelically lily-white chiffon gown as its jovial hem towered down to her frail bare ankles and boat neckline leaking her milky, lean collarbones symmetrically inscribing her bone structure and unblemished anatomy. In the interval, her lion mane of flawlessly satin old Hollywood gilt tresses piled up neatly on her shoulders and outstandingly majestic curtaining her profile at last. Low, mellifluous hum escaped humbly her pursed roseate lips and thoughtfully pinching her hazelish-brown gems shut, constricting tightly her eyelids muscles to prevent any kind of light hideously scintillating impaling her irises.

The six-month-old toddler was profoundly asleep and swaddled cozily warm in the middle of the king-sized bed, recklessly dwelled out of the absolute reality's crude realm and its undiscovered, frosty caverns that were so untouchable to be imbibed by his honey brown minerals that weren't buffing to drain every life-like, abstract nuance of the realistic illustration.

"I have to admit I have never done this to your hair." The suddenness of the pristinely soft, satin fingers of the former devotional clergyman manifesting to cradle a charcoal gray ribbing while his other hand's orthodoxy virginal, nimble fingers worked on bracing the brush to rake gingerly the fistful of tresses on dozes to smoothen the hair texture at last.

"Yar talking about the hairstyles to be done on my hair?" At the moment, the older woman maneuvered her spidery marbled fingers fabulously snatching the hem of her casual chiffon gown as its soothing softness grazing beneath her digits and fingertips, reluctant to tweak sharply, unceasingly her eyelids to unlatching her facial muscles to respond. Flock of serenely inviting goosebumps prodding Jude's overall epidermis of her legs and arms underneath the fabric's attire, guarding her from the peacefully chilly, majestic spring nocturnal zephyr to assault the very walls of the hotel room.

"Yes, to be honest!" A sharp exhale almost transmuting into a dry snort serenely infernal coursing through Jude's tiny, vulnerable nostrils, whereas the British aristocrat managed to clear his throat after muffling with the palm of his mammoth hand the inescapably cold-blooded cough and his eyelids dawdled the doubtlessly restless, weary blinks where the huge scale of encumbering weight contracted the eyelids' tender muscles. "Your hair is genuinely soft and stunning. It's such a blue moon to see somebody with such hair of yours."

"Why thank ya, Tim! I think there are ladies that are privileged with such stunning attributes which accent their outstanding character as well. Some might have the shiniest hair. Some might have the plumpest lips." Suddenly fingertips and pads of the British compatriot's creamy fingers dearly pressed the brush's bristle type untangle unevenly, warily whilst he darted his tongue to sponge his upper and lower angelically cherub lips and fixating his smoky quartz bijous to glaze the older woman's halo ringlet of flossy old Hollywood gilded curls. "Everybody possesses something that will knock your socks off. Their privilege costs an arm and a leg for most of us that aren't equipped with it." Contracting her jaw to balefully trigger her pearly-white teeth to plummet down the abrupt pain of the tad of tangled curls, the middle-aged woman folded her legs uneasily whilst the seconds unevenly stark ticked forward without rewinding back in the time.

"There's nothing wrong with not having it, because your happiness will be under no circumstances! Be over the moon for something that's part of your one of a kind character."

"Indeed! But something is starting to prong my attention."

"What do you mean specifically, rare bird?"

In a long minute of unsettlingly uncomfortable, bleak hush suffocated the site's outskirts and the bloodthirstily sable demons and shadows chasing down their preys and following each motion twitching their anatomy's muscle outrageously. Solely the beige hairbrush's bristle type gentlemanly gracious combed and untangled the waterfall of luxuriously silky locks from the top and dragging down until peaking to its eventual golden apogee. Even though the heart pulses of the couple synced rhythmically vigorous into their ribcages and accelerating sharply bare the uneven heat building beneath their garments' torsos, yet the former pious woman of the cloth apparently attempted to sort her mind and to assimilate the aftermaths of Madeleine, Cassandra and Andrea reined the flower store and Madeleine's eventual encounter with a figure of Judy and Timothy's past. The notoriously fame-hungry, slyly prying reporter whose recent goal was finishing her book that was almost close to air out in the bookstores and libraries in a few years solely. Lana Winters.

The bittersweet flavor of the spelling of the reporter's first two names laced its exuberantly frustration mounting up the wed couple's tongues at the very thought of the old figure whose ambiguous character was under question even acknowledging thanks to Father Kellan Teagan and the juvenile blonde about her reborn in Hartford. Even though they've caught up with the recent updates about the brunette's recent stop in Hartford, the former members of the clergy haven't expected her to have any interactions with the homosexual clergyman and the juvenile blonde. Notwithstanding the circumstance, what it awe-inspired the Howards was how their beloved friends have halted and confronted somehow the brunette even if Father Kellan Teagan has somewhat informed Lana about the couple's absence in their recurring residence, in order to fulfill their heavenly unique honeymoon that was once per a marriage with somebody significant. Somebody that could be capable of utterly dedicating their heart to somebody in more than platonic link.

On one hand, the former members of the clergy have never been found of Lana and her excessively prying nature that emulated to her utter journalistic practice and methods to obtain whatever she yearned for more than anything to prosper in her own career as a reporter and journalist even writer. On other hand, their hearts somewhat rotted for the dynamic roller coaster of her bleakly somber tribulations that haven't penetrated through her armor of her invincible stamina and untouchable intelligence.

Judy and Timothy were unquestionably aware of the aftermaths of Lana's disappearance and when the young psychiatrist soiled her life when she's deprived from a natural sunlight and the ultimate freedom to savor the prospect of the authentically extraordinary nature. Deprived from anything that stimulated her muscles and hurricane of thoughts. They have never coveted anybody to follow the journalist's hazy footsteps and clouding their faculty of sight and very thoughts with anything that was against their will.

"That prying journalist." Reciting in a mumble the lumpy syllables and vowels constructing her revelation that burdened her dainty shoulders after overthinking the vividly graphic scenarios their beloved buddies have being through during their absence, stinging widely opened her caramel brown bijous at the painting hovering above her eyesight, admiring the abstractly crispy talent of the painter whose hard-work and creativity have entirely devised the complex painting of a middle-aged woman with neatly coiffed medium mop of appealingly flossy cinnamon brown locks nailed beneath her retro oyster-white hairband curtaining impressively her oval, full profile, whereas her ankle-length with long sleeves and illusion neckline gracefully fashionable contouring her healthily willowy curves. In addition to the noetically exclusive painting a charcoal gray cat whose traits fashionably likened the American Wirehair accompanied the protagonist behind the artistic masterpiece and behind the artist's frequent daub of his fingers crooked around the brushes spattering its various of colour shades to erect momentarily each essential segment and layer of the illustration.

"Miss Lana Winters?" After the series of disentangling entirely the divinely aureate curls from its kinky wires that headstrongly clashed the brush's shrubbery, consequently the former ambitious Monsignor lowly hummed in inquiring approval, shooting a swift glance directly at the Bostonian's caramel brown cabochons. "Right?" Then his honey-mouthed, sheepish repetitive posed question to reaffirm certainly the maintenance of the formidably icy doldrum asphyxiating their facial muscles to vouch boldly to the rebellious voices roaring subconsciously cocksure inside their blizzard of thoughts, subsequently the former licentious jazz nightclub singer gravely pensive darted her hazelish-brown minerals into the former holy priest's refreshingly young-looking, handsome face when his fingers worked on re-brushing her cataract of luster aureate strands elegantly.

"Miss Lana Banana!"

"Is that yes?" After the repetitive coil of the second thick, marvelously opulent blonde curl, throughout the British aristocrat chewed on his bottom scrumptiously plumpish lip and throwing an ominously quick glimpse behind his toned, muscular back to make sure Edward Ralph was profoundly asleep yet.

"No shit! I don't really have any idea what the hell does she want from us except to keep in touch and probably,"

"Putting into her new story about both of us and that morbid snake pit we dedicated our very souls and ounce of our decencies to be corrupted by the darkness it offered!" Shortly after the British compatriot concluded with his orthodoxy long, slim fingers working on the hairbrush to mundanely smart, humbly skimmed the halo ringlet of sacredly golden strands, thus he leant down to press a promisingly doting, angelically heartwarming peck to his wife's skull. In the meantime, the blonde candidly molted into the peck's potently bewitching touch grazing the back of her skull in no time. It felt like a fairy tale's fairy registering to gesticulate out their magic wands to conjugate its unnatural hex on their prey and transforming them into something magnificently unbelievable. "Maddie and Kellan are knocking the socks off with their initial impressions on her even if I have nothing against her unless she endangers our names and our very dear friends." After the polite attempt to cut off curtly, exquisitely the former pious sister of the church, meantime, her husband dumped the hairbrush on top of the other ottoman and his faultlessly nimble fingers operated fully on dividing one her locks ternary that identically canvassed her featherly-soft, fascinating hair texture twinkling its brilliantly sybaritic shininess past his cinnamon brown orbs. "Even if she isn't very fond of me or whoever emulates to distrust her, on one hand I think she deserves a second chance unless she screws it up and soils her own soul with the betrayal smeared across our faces and hearts."

"That is the question if a second chance would help her to be on her feet with our relationship and to not soil our names just for her nutty fabrications."

"Her dilemma is quite questionable, but I'm absolutely sure Maddie and Kellan won't second it to grant her forgiveness if she genuinely make castles in the air." The haphazardness of the younger gentleman tissues unceasingly knitting the strands into a gigantic braid, an ethereally crispy inhale of the inexorably scrumptious lion mane's fragrance teasingly pronged his nose and struggling to form a fabulously modest, purely beatific smile to decorate his parchment complexion and fleetly replacing his sorely wry smirk permeated across his mouth.

"Because Maddie is pretty ruthless and cunning when it comes to detecting the chary dominos until they're tossed out of their faces and eventually leaking their monstrously hair-rising, greedily grotesque faces of the void."

"Maddie is a pearly precious gem we're gladly serving our loyalty and support." All of a sudden, the pairing's jaw muscles villainously stubborn flexed to varnish their angelically kindhearted, pure smiles spreading across their suavely bold grins curving their lips into wide O at the thought of the Michiganian who not only was part of their lives for months, but also they could take a bullet for her and vice versa. The insatiably mouth-watering flavor of her altruism and loyalty built its sweltering heat of pinkness tickling their well-carved, chubby cheeks mischievously. "I'm thankful she's our best of friends through the toughest times we've chased down and ascended to the uphill." Timidly brittle tissues knitting the tresses into one slowly but surely, the eerie motionlessness of the older woman didn't dare to quiver any single muscle of her petite-frame, licking thoughtfully her mouth. "If you think about what she did for us and we did for her in the last months unlike Miss Winters, at least there's something Lana can do for both of us even if there are times I just can't stand her guts."

"Do ya mean to expose Briarcliff and shut it down on trillions of pieces even to save the poor Pepper?"

"That's the correct answer!" In a long minute of knotting the tresses into a neat, ordinarily attractive braid and bidding it with a ribbing a few times and tightening her hairstyle even though the dim ball of nausea ominously crimping recklessly ruthless in the pits of their stomachs once the name of their former workplace brightly somber slipped from their tongue tips.

"S-Something's wrong?" Dozens of uneven stammers sloppily clumsy foamed the Bostonian's mouth at the very thought of her fewest pal or at least most frequently interactive patient inside the nefariously old, dilapidating mental hospital and the undeservedly villainous, blood-curdling treatment Pepper earned from certain patients and staff members sickened to bones the married pairing.

"Jude!"

"I'm having mixed feelings about bringing back that snake pit that looks like a fucked up privy. I just want to throw up at the thought of it to step inside even if I took an oath to not even crawl a single finger to touch its monumental architecture."

"You have to overcome it. It will be the final time before everything ends in our favor associated with that," Purring its bark curling his upper nude pink lip and subsequently hunkering down to survey in a scrutiny his wife's majestic hairstyle he separated from his leisure to render her ethereally celestial, timeless grace to glitter restlessly, yanking her elvish, ghostly pale hands into his larger, amusingly warm. "That filthy, godless abyss of the earth. It will be our final time seeing the true notion of the disaster. We'll do it for somebody you deemed as another daughter figure and that deserves much better than to be transferred somewhere else after Briarcliff's final countdown."

"Ya don't have any clue how much I want Pepper to be happy and not just doing it for my own fucking sake!"

"I truly understand you! After that honeymoon, we're going back to Boston solely for her and then I'm not having any intentions even to step in that hellhole which is labeled to be one of the Massachusetts cities."

Once the early spring common climate registered to suffuse its own contagious lukewarm mantle fanning the authentically multi-coloured crowns of the monumental trees kindling circularly the parking where the nightshift of the security guard has already commenced to tick unnervingly perfidious every elapsing moment while sidetracking, doing further activities than supervising the site and peering over the newspaper that caught his attention even if the radio escorted him to inform him about the breaking news and playing the hottest songs, the radio lowly hummed inside the humbly cozy cabin.

"When I woke up this morning you were on my mind and you were on my mind, I got troubles, whoa-oh!" You Were On My Mind by We Five was recently droning on the radio and incessantly pitching the cabin's coherently secure walls as the vocalist's eloquently velvety chant accentuated razor-edgedly the song's lyrics.

In the interval, the widower's masculinely potent, deft fingers lingered on the radio to adjust turning down the volume while his other hand clung infernally persistent the earpiece to his vulnerable ear and peering over his cherry wood bureau to examine in a scrutiny in the corner of his eye the whole nocturnal vista of the site outside.

"I didn't know that prying donkey would have the freaking nuts to ask over that cool fella of Timothy in the priesthood and Maddie about my pals that are currently out-the-town for their honeymoon." The pleasantly northern lilt of the widower sharpened his scowl as one of his colossal, masculinely veiny hands discharged the radio's tools to adjust the volume and ghosting his fingertips smoothly through the furniture's wooden surface and elaborating its uneasily ticklish drum.

"But she doesn't have the fucking right to put her nose in somebody's business that isn't worth even her attention to have her nose in the air. I'd rather advice her to keep her nose clean." The suddenness of the Michiganian's stormy, antagonistic grunt left her mouth, whereas the former police officer managed to diligently gullible, studiously inquisitive to squint up his lapis lazuli gems to spear out the window as the parking was bizarrely empty. Bizarrely empty that could be interpreted ambiguously according to variety of versions that formulated each nobody's individual exemplar. Miraculously, the Michiganian and the former police officer have shared less than a minute of phone conversation discussing their daily lives.

"Maddie, everything will be okay! She can do something really meaningful for us even if it's just only one." The older man's insisting attempts to reassure the young woman to resuscitate her sheer, childish optimism to have modicum of belief in the brunette that could be capable of solely shutting down the most nefariously old, sinisterly dilapidating mental institutions in the small city of Massachusetts in favor of the Howards is going to compensate their tremendous abhorrence of her even if they are doubtlessly far cry from fond of her persona in general. A morbidly wry, prim smirk spurted across the middle-aged man's chapped, nude pink lips. "Only one thing to compensate that hatred over something we're solely consuming ourselves. The hatred can be replaced with something more meaningful. More,"

"More logical!" At the moment, the juvenile blonde cut off curtly the security guard, graciously darting her tongue to lick greedily mischievous her upper and lower angelically cherub lips.

"Indeed, Maddie!" A heavy sigh bubbled up from Madeleine's frail chest, manifesting to bob her head in solemn agreement. "But with still, megawatt distrust! Take my word for it."

"Correct!" After manipulating to lug the mug of happily hot, steamy green herbal tea to take a guiltlessly delightful, hedonistic sip, thereafter the young lady dumped the mug aloof on top of her desk as the desk lamp's artificial light filtered partly with its celestially yellowish light the room and her solely free hand's virginally deft fingers fleetly, absent-mindedly teased the crispy cord on the mission of playful fingering and coiling the entity. "Then she can do whatever she longs for in one condition. To not crown us with the big time, thanks to her pathetic story to be on the front page of the newspapers!"

"I got worries, whoa-oh! I got wounds to bind so I went to the corner kust to ease my pains!"

"I'm not seeking the fame like the others would, because it's under no circumstances what kind of honor it will crown me with just for a deed that can be done by thousands of people."

"You know what, Frank?" Meantime, the flower store saleswoman unknowledgeably eerie curbed greatly bewildering her rhetorical question, begging for Frank's immediately sharp attention as his lapis lazuli narrowed surreptitiously bone-chilling at the pulled off fern green cab in the middle of the parking that dumped the rest of the free lots blood-curdlingly desolated and still not enough to fuel the nocturnally unwelcoming, bleakly patchy hollow of loneliness. "I remember so far when I was much younger like a little girl, I guess, and even counting my early teen years in Michigan, when Winters became the big-shot on the front page of the newspapers even some of my former dummy classmates brought the topic about her," After sipping monotonously out of her cup of healthily green liquid to recollect her thoughts at the very reminiscence of the homosexual reporter fueling her explicitly vivid tempest of flashbacks and remarkable memories of acknowledging her very name, subsequently Madeleine's modestly blatant conjugated slur of the hedonistic tiny sip of her tea echoed through the earpiece and reining off the widower's blatantly graceful, inwardly guttural chuckle clicking the roof of his mouth. "I knew so far that journalist bugs me off even if there are things she did with a cause except for her blatantly hilarious stories how she lost her own way to home or how to cook baked beans. My parents truly can't stand her guts due to the fact they're strict Catholics that are indeed pious and they would deem me as the same donkey as Lana."

"At least ya aren't leaning to be a homosexual?" The sheer self-consciousness clumsily didn't fade away from the former cop's rhetorical inquiry, incredulously bafflement contouring his charming facial attributes and inscribing precisely his wrinkles until series of devilishly rowdy raps on the shut door caught off guard the security guard, struggling to flex his Adam's apple muscles to swig the thickness into his throat and shooting a fleetly surreptitious glance behind his back for a split second gravely pensive, gullibly. "Are you?"

"Not exactly, however, it's interesting to still question myself and my preference where it actually leans to."Another door rap didn't maneuver any single muscle of Frank's anatomy to twitch timidly coy while darting his azure blue depths to scan promptly the parking yard, biting his tongue unintentionally due to the intensifying, nonplussing anxiety coursing through his veins and the vigorous frigid paroxysm pulsating into his frail skeleton relentlessly. "Well, I know so far there's something not exactly straight about me at all. I mean I'm going to eat my hat to fully believe I'm like the vast mass of girls on my age that is into their joes."

"There's nothing wrong with being different, Maddie! It's like being the only colorful butterfly amidst the other caterpillars, ya know!" Profuse layer of villainously playful, unknowledgeable clamminess coated the middle-aged man's palms after scanning with his peripheral eye glimpsed back behind his back and then quirking questionably perplexed his dark, thick eyebrows on reflex after knitting them to the bridge of his nose when Lydia Jane dawdled her fashioned petite hand into a balled fist to knock on the wooden door humdrum eventually.

"C'mon, you sluggard! We shall talk." The hoarseness of the vindictively wicked, girlishly supercilious snicker of the policewoman didn't vanish in the thin air even when it echoed through the cabin's coherent walls and door and tingling alarming tones into the older gentleman's ears.

"Yeah, just to ease my pains! I got troubles, whoa-oh, I got worries, whoa-oh, I came home again!"

"And I almost forgot that Judy and Tim will be interviewed in June and then they will be on a wee vacation to London like in late October."

"The door!" The exceedingly rebellious and hoarsely irritated emphasis of the policewoman chased down stubbornly the widower even though the flower store saleswoman wasn't oblivious to her friend's uneven stammers.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I'll tell ya pretty late about that one, Maddie! Ya better sleep tight and I'm sincerely sorry we've to end up to here for now. Good night, pal!"

"Good nigh-" In the meanwhile, the fiendishly sore, afflictively humdrum pip of the cut off phone conversation between the juvenile blonde and Frank once her wet, berry-coloured tongue sluggishly crafted the mouthful of vowels and syllables.

In a handful of moments after maneuvering to lift up his rear from the chair and dropping back the earpiece to the retro phone, thus the middle-aged gentleman scurried to the door as one of his masculinely veiny, milky hands perched on the doorknob and turning it until it desperately whined at the broadening scale of space at the prospect of the homosexual cop standing beside him.

Nauseously frosty ball paradoxally crept underneath his lower abdomen to perm frustratedly perky in the pit of his stomach, whereas raising an arch of his dark, thick eyebrow at Lydia Jane as his other mammoth hand's orthodoxy creamy, long fingers ushered to reach for his scalp to chafe it with his neatly trimmed, small fingernails bashfully distressful and maintaining an adequately formal eye contact with the younger lady.

The purely bright contrast between the woeful pout carved upon Frank's naturally baby-pinkish, delightfully plump lips and the serpentinely sly, prim grin embellishing exquisitely Lydia Jane's façade scarcely inched and interwining the thin, subtle elasticity of their distance.

"Good evening, Miss Morrison!"

"Good evening!" The haphazardness of the youthful nimbleness of the ginger to aim her revolver directly at the security guard ushered him urgently to raise his strongly fleshy, muscly arms into the thin air, indicating the formidably intimidation, whereas her swan thumb oscillated to press the revolver's trigger, shooting a mischievous wink at the recent target.

**Author's Note: I know the recent chapters of Wings of Light including this one are slightly sloppy, in spite of my persistent attempts to please my readers. Furthermore, I'd like to apologize for the delayed updates, however, I tried my best to improve this chapter compared to the previous ones to include more scenes even with Jude and Timothy.**

**What are your thoughts on that cliffhanger? Do you think Frank will be a rival with Lydia Jane due to the St. Valentine's Day accident with Jude and Timothy in the bar or not at all? Do you think Lana will keep to her word to shut down Briarcliff even if it's solely mentioned her name in a few scenes? Do you think there's possibility Martha to join the guild of the good guys or otherwise she will still be part of her father's? **

**Don't forget to leave a feedback if you've really enjoyed this chapter! I'd like to hear your thoughts! :))**


	35. Old Redux

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"I didn't murder him. I just woke up and I found out my uncle committed suicide with hanging out with my scarf."

"I genuinely understand how upset you're, Miss Gray! I can call your cousin and brother to pick you up in a few minutes and before that to have a glass of water or to help you with using the en-suite bathroom, Miss!"

"Phew! That was frankly close!"

"Indeed! Even if there are small cities like Adams that have nothing to offer with galore of landmarks to inspire tourists or civilians like them, at least, there's something unique about any place that leaves a constant scar of memories to spawn in yar mind. It's sprawling out its explicit vividness of the memories you've collected even from such teeny-weeny cities like Adams. The ambience is beyond peaceful. The community of people equate to friendly. We are being surrounded by the nature. It's pleasantly balmy the weather that dance around us."

"It reminds me of a school trip my elementary school teacher organized to City of Ripon when I was approximately eight years old. I remember so far that the weather was quite soggy, howsoever... howsoever, I and a few of my elementary school classmates had such a glamorous time. It's just unforgettable how a few words I emitted are worth a thousand golden memories."

"Judy Martin used to be my love interest and you came very close to be her friend."

"Excuse me?"

"Why thank ya, Tim! I think there are ladies that are privileged with such stunning attributes which accent their outstanding character as well. Some might have the shiniest hair. Some might have the plumpest lips. Everybody possesses something that will knock your socks off. Their privilege costs an arm and a leg for most of us that aren't equipped with it."

"There's nothing wrong with not having it, because your happiness will be under no circumstances! Be over the moon for something that's part of your one of a kind character."

"But she doesn't have the fucking right to put her nose in somebody's business that isn't worth even her attention to have her nose in the air. I'd rather advice her to keep her nose clean."

"Maddie, everything will be okay! She can do something really meaningful for us even if it's just only one. Only one thing to compensate that hatred over something we're solely consuming ourselves. The hatred can be replaced with something more meaningful. More,"

\- Flashback -

\- 3 Years Ago -

\- 20th of June, 1963 -

"How fucking dare you?" In the meanwhile, the Michiganian's fierce lividness prominently puncturing her rhetorical enquiry as she manifested to fashion into balled fists her elvish, marbled hands, whereas her ostensible boyfriend Nathan crooked his youthfully strong, muscly arm to secure the foreign girl whose physique seemed quite different accompanying him on their way to the exit of the brightly illuminated cinema salon. The ferociously fiery, antagonistic growl of the Michiganian sloppily foamed her pink mouth as her honey brown huge, roundish cabochons belliregently brass fizzed haughtily her glare casted on the pairing whose attention shifted utterly to the desperately livid blonde and maintaining a fairly appropriate proximity gauging a couple of inches solely and cortoring its huge mass of cinema enthusiasts dashing out of the cinema salon recklessly blunt to flee the grandiose façade."H-How dare you to be a dog and pony show right into my foaming with lividness eyes, you compulsive cheater?" Villaniously baring her pearly-white teeth, luminous with passionate resentment and nauseous abhorrence of the prospect of her cheating alleged boyfriend in the company of the other girl that seemed far cry from graciously promising into the juvenile blonde's honey brown depths.

"She's just a friend of mine." Struggling to elaborate a sardonically prim, vindictive smirk across his pale-pinkish, thin lips, the young man knitted his light, thick eyebrows to the bridge of his nose while the slightly older lady casted her ocean blue huge, roundish depths spearing innocuous nonplussed the furious juvenile blonde's parchment, femininely youthful complexion and the profusion of unhealthily uneven, bloodthirstily abysmal rubicund blush flustering her well-sculptured cheeks and the sheer manipulation of her narrowed eyebrows, unable to stifle the vehemently bone-chilling fury pulsating into her petite frame and the fiery adrenaline coursing through her very veins. "Maddie, you aren't presupposed to see red!" A sardonically prim, deeply surreptitious giggle clicked the roof of Nathan's mouth, lingering his crooked muscular, potent arm to support his company's middle.

Nathan was eventually a young man approximately Madeleine's age whose skin tone was ghostly pale, nevertheless, midst the fewest healthy nuances of the ghostly pale highlighting his physique. His pools of profoundly emotionless, boyishly sarcastic cocoa brown inscribed its roundish curves of his eyelids and mirroring its manipulated reflection of the absolute reality that shimmered past his eyesight. Further, a short mop of dirty blond hideously greasy strands plastered above his full, round profile bonded. The young gentleman's colour preference could fluctuate between garnet red and rasin purple even though his common every day outfits paired the pale shades of green and the darker variant of red. His actual roots are a great blend of Welsh and a tad Scottish by judging his ancestors such as his parents and grandparents even though he's the only child in his family. His height was approximately gauged no more than 5'9 and his anatomy's construction emulating to a full average as well. Last but not least, he's studying in the same school with his almost ex-girlfriend and his group of friends was doubtlessly luxurious as the quantity of his friends could outnumber on the fingers on his both bare hands. His full name was eventually Nathan Harrison Akeroyd.

Unlike his recent companion, the slightly older lassie who spent a handful of hours in the camaraderie and the luxuriously ticklish, diabolically entertaining laughters, smiles and conversations of her love interest, Desdemona Irma Forbis was a young woman who was with a handful of years the Michiganian and Welsh compatriot's seniors. First and foremost, she towered the Michiganian with a couple of inches that approximated four, subsequently gauging her 5'6 eventually. Her body structure was mildly chubby. Notwithstanding her taller plump figure, Desdemona Irma's natural skin tone was actually mildly tanned due to the graciously sunny days of the northern state even though the chillier early summer days embracing its huge mass of audience that was sufficiently bold to flee their homes to treasure pearly each advancing second of their life and their feet daubing tenderly the ground. Furthermore, the brunette started college a year ago and she has never been fond of the younger girl. Her halo ringlet of heavenly flossy brown locks cascaded her mid-back even though the collegian rather preferred tying her hair usually in casual, humble ponytails and high buns, dumping a fistful of sinisterly unruly locks bouncing with each perky, unpredictable motion and framing elegantly her square profile. Her ocean blue huge, rotund embers, fiercely alight with childlike innocence and wry nonchalance embellished exquisitely her facial attributes paired with her naturally nude pink, heart-shaped lips and her naturally dark, fashionably thin eyebrows. Last but not least, a floral oyster-white dress with scoop neckline leaking partly her lusciously delicate and brittle collarbones, coupled with short bell sleeves embroidering her dainty shoulder blades contoured its overall anatomy of her tissues paired with nude comfy pumps shoeing her large feet and silver bracelets binding her brittle wrists.

"Nat, we better be on our way to leave!" Meanwhile, the collegian channelized her petite, pleasantly tanned hand to claw delicately, yet emboldeningly tempting the blond's broad shoulder blade, darting her azure blue embers to glaze his as he ducked his head to pursue for her stare, whereas the high schooler stifled a blatant whimper to bubble up from her feminine Adam's apple during her persistently wrathful attempts to resist the urge to chant the ode of her fierce adrenaline pumping into her muscles and building its sweltering heat and clamminess coating thickly, invincibly her palms and digits. "It doesn't seem the best timing to clash with another intruder eagerly willing to spoil our company."

"I was thinking it's better to listen to your version instead of keep ignoring me and soiling yourself by switching abruptly your partners like in a New York minute." All of a sudden, the juvenile blonde malleably tailed the young pairing, scarcely having any intentions to give up with an ease just shortly after realizing that she is no longer the love interest even the extraordinarily majestic one of a kind girlfriend of her classmate who was currently focused utterly on dating a slightly older lady. Even though it's Madeleine's first serious boyfriend who has bewitchingly enchanted her heart and tinging the heart-shaped box in the most vivid shades of rosy and spent the entire weekends in discussing from Classic Literature to Franz Kafka and challenging themselves to write short stories inspired on opulence of genres, now the heart-shaped box no longer managed to functioning ordinarily smooth and ebbing off its high-spirited shades.

"First and foremost, you're incredibly overreacting which aided me to see through your showed true colors, Maddie! I knew so far that," The collegian manifested her stark neutrality between the fighting exes and maneuvering to fold her satin plump arms across her bulky chest, while the trio halted a couple of inches past the front door of the grandiose façade. Baleful tone loomed abysmally unpardonable tinging remarkably the blond's rational exegis emulating entirely to his stark symptoms of resenting his ex-girlfriend and leaking unceasingly his position on the pretty controversial posed question. "That you wouldn't be capable of breaking my heart with your Drama Queen persona that I have perpetually studied during this time we've been together. Anyway the damage has already being done to me."

"You're saying that you can't stand her guts just because," Desdemona Irma's bottom rosy-coloured lip curled at the timidly uninviting whisper bubbling up from her throat momentarily, shooting a quick glance at the younger woman and then pursuing agitatedly for the Welsh compatriot's cocoa brown big, round gems draining each translucently crystal glint twinkling mischievously into his iris and indiscernible pitch-black pupil as Nathan maintained an adequately promising, piercing eye contact with her. "She takes the things a little bit more gravely than it supposed to be?" The younger woman's blood seethed wickedly vindictive and lingering her bared pearly-white teeth in the egregious grimace twisted across her healthily porcelain, childlikely young-looking complexion.

"Who gave you the right to speak, you bitch?" At the moment, the blonde registered to approach the romantic duo and sealing the tiny gap they exchanged just moments ago, licking pensively remorseless her roseate mouth for a split second, narrowing her amber brown gems at the brunette's parchment profile, her tea-stained breathing fiendishly faint fanning her unblemished facial skin and hitch asphyxiated her lungs' reproduction. Fierce lividness vibrated through the young man's frail skeleton once his smoky quartz cabochons caught a glimpse of his ex-girlfriend cutting off curtly, coarsely her enquiry that was escorted meekly by series of stutters. "And Nat, you are dropping a bombshell on the wrong person that isn't supposed to be fucked up with doing it right behind my back," Barely giving any opportunity to either of her opponents to cut her off as her serpentine venomous tongue conjugated chaotically its diversity of vowels and syllables in her caution begging for its an immediate release from its grate and retaliating fiercely the nobodies that truly deserved to eavesdropping the aftermaths of the stealthy conspiracies that were once organized behind her back to damage their relationship. A woefully sarcastic smirk darkened the Michiganian's facial features and drifting one of her petite hands' forefinger to daub gingerly her chest, gesticulating herself during the heated debate. "You think you can outsmart somebody with the most rueful excuse I've ever heard in my life? Don't be so confident in yourself, because if I were you, Nat, I would eat my hat. Just have the guts to tell me what do you want right now and I'll fully respect your decision." Dim shivers paradoxally twitched the romantic duo's very muscles and bones whilst eavesdropping attentively the Michiganian's caution that spoke volumes and spoke emotions. It leaked the genuine incarnation of the infidelity if you are asking anybody.

"Moreover, you ain't a Saint so that to be worth any ounce of respect!"

"But the question is who isn't mature enough to take responsibility which should be finely taken seriously and you deem it as an overreaction?" At the moment, the college's frail lungs propelled persistently a heavy, jaded sigh due to the cold-bloodedly dramatic scenario she's recently designed to attest entirely in the corner of her lapis lazuli eye. Even though she didn't have anything against the pupil except somehow the dozens of meowed extravagantly garish quarrel between her and her ex-boyfriend whose relationship usually metamorphosed into spectacularly stable and frankly aflutter due to their lacking experience beneath the barriers of the crudely cold world that was overcrowded with opulence of hazardous moments and humanoid mobs that were against their will to accomplish fully their gaga ambitions. "Just keep one advice to lighten your perspective before I vanish from your life. Never deem something as an overreaction when somebody truly cares about you or you are taking certain things genuinely seriously!" In the meantime, the Michiganian darted her glaring amber brown cabochons at the pairing for a split second, in order to catch a glimpse of their exceedingly convincing attentions in the form of gazes fixated on her, alight by her brutal honesty and efficient puissance.

"You're mad as a hatter!" The haphazardness of the young man's half-hearted, tacitly stealthy imitating an acrimoniously bittersweet grunt sloppily dripping from his mouth foamed with fantastically crystal disgruntlement to drizzling up his youthfully think stubble, whereas the colleger registered to lug the larger frame towards her, in order to flee the building promptly as Desdemona Irma's azure blue gems no longer twinkled the brilliant glossiness, ablaze with angelically inebriating patience to be a witness to the inevitably blood-curdling.

"Nat, sweetheart, we better leave! That's the best for us." The Welsh compatriot's relentlessly bare Lethe to his recent girlfriend's sweet, inviting coo to dash out of the site in a jiff scarcely designed its musical tones of her pleasantly deep lilt to winnow sharply into his vulnerable ears, pursuing agitatedly for her boyfriend's glare that glazed at Madeleine's porcelain, young-looking profile and surveying her in a scrutiny studiously to scan her charming facial attributes at each angle and each curve etching its tender skin.

"Go to hell and don't come back to me ever again!"

"I'm not even begging for your pardon even when you are failing to show me respect that could cost you an ounce of decency." Suddenly Madeleine's powerlessness frostily pitilessly hackled recklessly the frozen blood that meagerly surged through her very veins and stilling her pools of abysmally venomous, glassy hazel tunelessly, colourlessly tippling every motion and shudder shimmering brightly past her sight that illustrated vividly realistic, bleak prospect of the young love dashing out of the site promptly without turning their backs ever again. Without turning their back to contemplate through the face of the past that it was so untouchable, so abysmal, so mystic, so violent and so unappeasable. A vast ocean of nobodies outnumbered Nathan and Desdemona once they no longer populated the cinema's façade.

\- End of Flashback -

\- Back to Nowadays -

\- 9th of April, 1966 -

"W-What I have done?" The enquiry almost died on the security guard's wet, berry-coloured tongue whilst boring his lapis lazuli huge, rotund gems into Lydia's amber brown. Thickness abruptly hypodermically relentless seethed his Adam's apple and elaborating its conveying the friendly reminder for an expeditious release. The heart pulses' amplification fiercely forceful pumping his ribcage and the unevenly vehement, dull thumps' rhythmically humdrum sync into his ears at the unexpected uninvited guest in the cabin in the middle of the night.

"It's not the question what you have done," At the moment, the younger woman slowly but surely subconscious ducked her revolver promptly, managing to maintain an adequately formal eye contact with the widower who was recently in charge of the parking' very welfare during the midnight hours. The pleasant Florida lilt graciously authentic punctured the Floridian's wryly sarcastic accent emerging from her naturally rosy-coloured, angelically cherubic lips. "But you seem a big, ferocious trouble by judging that you really resemble somebody from the Grays without shadow of a doubt." The inexorably cheerful crinkle of the Floridian's light-heavy wrinkles inscribing deeply her graciously tanned facial tone, whilst fixating her gaze on the widower's and meagerly tilting her head. In the interval, the younger woman's blood boiled ferociously savage at the very thought of the Grays and their leader of the small guild Cayden leading his family members to participate indubitably agitated in the crimes' subtle performance against the rest of the world. Even though Lydia Jane scarcely knew anything about Frank's grisly past as employee behind the dully lifeless, grayish walls of the nefariously old and dilapidating mental hospital of Boston, besides riding the dynamical roller coaster of the drastically grisly events of his post-widower phase shortly after the hideously melancholic loss of his wife in a car crash years ago, nevertheless, yet the middle-aged lady' ominously iron-willed attempts to guess his identity and shooting a glimpse at his associations with the notorious Grays of Hartford roused the life of galore of questions. "Before hopping up forward, wouldn't you mind to show me your I.D card in case?"

The suddenness of the former policeman's masculinely strong, long fingers managing to reach for his leather jet-black jacket's pocket, fiddling clumsily the flimsy compact entity for proving to the authorities and the institutions obligating him to demonstrate promptly its document for his individual identity, in case, if certain awkward scenarios where he's being mistaken for somebody else, didn't cease to dumbfound Lydia Jane shortly after the sheerly dexterous manipulation of his fingers to snatch the compact entity from the pocket glittering its pure brilliance past her eyesight.

"When I woke up this morning! You were on my mi-i-i-ind and  
you were on my mind! I got troubles, whoa-oh!" The radio's music postponed to forgo the pairing's conversation they channelized to maintain appropriately, soberly even though the female vocalist's silver-tongued tone to outnumber their outstandingly authentic lilts puncturing their utterances, chanting their own ballad.

"Here we go, ma'am!" When the older gentleman managed to demonstrate the I.D card as the plastic miniature entity was partly scraped softly with a handful of meaty fingers poising stable to tilt exquisitely to abrade the scanning gaze of Lydia Jane. The real identity of Frank such as his full name, birthday, birth city and many other factors determining unremittingly his persona were paged up on each tiny inch of the card as each letter etching the prominent key words shimmered upon her pools of profoundly studious honey brown.

"Oh God!" Then the homosexual registered to claw meekly her chest with her elvish, soothingly creamy hand, narrowing her hazelish-brown depths to scan in a scrutiny the essential data about Frank's individual identity, parting her lips in a temptingly prim, lukewarmly soft O shortly after fathoming utterly and assimilating the whole situation that the widower didn't have any associations with the nefariously spine-chilling Grays. The realization severely adamant rumbled up through the homosexual's very veins and fathoming the genuine exemplar of the widower's stark ingenuousness illustrating vibrantly his persona in general. "You are innocent and you aren't actually even having the last name Gray." Meantime, the awkward manipulation of grinding his pearly-white teeth to nibble the inside of the older man's cheek, stilling the transfixed azure blue embers on the middle-aged lady could formulate his ordinary wont, accommodating heinously headstrong to his one of a kind character even when the awkwardness yet contagiously aggressive grumbled its zephyrs to sarcastically suffocate its preys of the spontaneously chilling doldrum.

"I didn't mean to bring it up, howsoever, are ya actually Andrea's friend?" Suddenly the middle-aged gentleman's Adam apple churned vigorously to elaborate its pouching immediately the inevitably soar lump waltzing relentlessly refreshing beneath its hypodermically fleshy walls, whereas his thickly strong northern lilt lanced his stammer foaming his nude mouth.

"How do you know that I am a friend of Andrea?"

"I am keeping in touch with her regularly and she is a really close friend of mine." A beamingly reassuring, optimistically vain smirk tugged at the corner of the former police officer's nude mouth, whereas Lydia Jane manipulated to worry her bottom rosy-coloured lip ethereally timeless between her front milky teeth. Notwithstanding the circumstances, due to a couple of chats the platonic duo the former prostitute and the former police office have exchanged, the name of the middle-aged lady Lydia Jane was a phenomenally unavoidable process to hem their utterances even though he hasn't had the brilliantly divine opportunity to encounter her except acknowledging facts about her via her old buddies. "It is under no circumstances if I haven't even heard of ya and barely knew about yar very existence." At the moment, the redhead registered to step inside the cabin and slamming the door behind her shut instantaneously as Frank's rear perched back on his seat and reclining comfortably, relishing the precious moment to have the celestially delightful opportunity to interact with one of the former prostitute's close friends in person instead of lingering its eavesdropping mission facts behind her back which was much easier and raw method as well. Healthily raspy, guttural chuckle gurgled vehemently from his lips, consequently putting back his ID card in his jacket's pocket, whereas his elbows nonchalantly inundated the armrests.

"That's pretty intriguing!" Lulling her strawberry-coloured tongue to lick greedily her upper and lower lip pensively shortly after nipping at the raw spot of her bottom lip, Lydia Jane manifested to fold her leanly silken arms across her chest, lingering her piercing, yet haughtily amiable gawk pronging the security guard's sapphire blue cabochons magnetically. The arrantly crystal, glamorous splendor of haughtiness dancing its richly original dance of the mere stares that were commonly pronging every interaction with Lydia Jane's caramel brown cabochons, it didn't cease the inescapable circumstance of her other persona that emerged from her very frail skeleton's outstanding anatomy like a fading dream and a dimly alabaster spectral sauntering with its resiliently surreptitious footsteps ghosting the very background, escorting its meekly supernatural, gruesome trance. "Tell me more about it!" The childishly vibrant, sunny inquisitiveness rousing the very lives of the wighty dozens of questions the ginger had about the preciously stable, down-to-earth friendship the former hooker and the widower traded one another melted her heart, throughout unfolding her silken arms as she seated on top of the bureau conveniently, reclining against the graciously chilly wall offering her a comfy shelter for her spine after another tough day and the opulence of tribulations the days as a cop have inundated her to dip in its mistily abysmal waters of its sable ocean of the challenging absolute reality. "Huh?" Channelizing to cross her sternly panted-clad leg to perch on top of the fleshy, velvet thigh, the palms of her flabbergastingly lukewarm hands clawed vainly the bureau's edge, whilst Frank raised an arch of his dark, thick eyebrow at the prospect.

"I got worries, whoa-oh, I got wounds to bind and I got a feelin' down in my sho-oo-oo-oes, said!"

"I am seeing her like once a week and whenever she needed my advice, I delivered it out, of course!"

"She is a genuinely as cool as a cucumber!"

"No shit!" In the meantime, the security guard shot a fleetly subconscious glimpse at the window's realistically gloomy, desolated landscape embracing his pools of raptly ocean blue of the outdoor site and the only immobile car, thus abrading stubbornly his eyes to the policewoman's amber brown. "I didn't give a damn about her former occupation as well even though her name is soiled," Oblivious to the mysterious vehicle's driver stealthily nimbleness tossing out a miniature entity roosting on the rigidly uncomfortable asphalt emulating fully to its bare nature, subsequently the leery gentleman whose meaty, masculinely potent fingers cradled the car's key shortly after slamming shut the door on his left worked on turning the car's engine as the dully unimpressive, strenuously earthy drone tingled alarming tones into his vulnerable ears and drifting his mammoth, marbled hands to waltz the steering wheel, whereas his orthodoxy oxford-clad feet's toes obdurately forceful grinded on the treadle and pulling off the cab to its impending destination. The rabidly rapid tiresome noise of the accelerated cab's speed to flee the site in a jiffy meagerly caught off guard Lydia Jane and Frank who were currently drowning in the hazily intoxicating, abysmal sea of their logically rational conversations and the monumental waves plashing vehemently playful, inviting the platonic duo, drenching with its intriguing points they emphasized.

"What the hell was that?" The suddenness of the ginger struggled to buff a greatly bewildered straight line flattening her mouth's very curves whilst the duo maneuvered to dart their jewels to the gruesomely empty parking, impaling balefully the very window of the cabin once the cryptical ebony vehicle no longer friendly accompanied the compact façade, enclosing in its vast beehive of grandiose blossoming trees, bearing a semblance of tall shadowy fingers summoning the wights of tremendously frigid uncomfort to assault its preys of solitude eventually.

Whenever a cab parked on one of the free parking lots, the site's richness of eeriness managed to vanish into the thin air and be bleared lastly as if the sacredly celestial wings flipped vigorously and unfurling the darker nuances of the melancholic sentiments suffusing infectiously to assailing its victims that set foot. Even either a single living being wandered its very presence to ghost the asphalt or on the contrary the artificially scintillating illumination filtered the cabin's space bestowing the security guard to properly supervise the situation strictly, nevertheless, it couldn't replace the dozens of immobile vehicles that outnumbered the small building.

Regardless the circumstances and the lonely nights during his night shift, Frank perseveres to find opulence of imaginative alternatives to dodge the sloppy trails of the arduously strong-willed boredom to asphyxiate the time's eventual progress that couldn't be eluded artistically. Either surveying in a scrutiny the recently aired out newspaper articles as fleet distraction instead of incessantly infectious boring his gape into the outdoors' magnificently isolated prospect or otherwise curling his nude lips into the sheer manipulation of chanting joyously certain songs' lyrics and swaying his hips rhythmically restless, bluntly radiant each twitching muscle syncing its rabidly perky acceleration of his heart pulses' hammers into his ribcage.

"That cryptical car, tho!" Mewling a breathy grunt under her breath, throughout the homosexual manifested to slip her royal blue manicured fingernails to graze tenderly, thoughtfully uneasy her scalp, whereas lingering the straight line decorating her façade and manipulating her rear to lift from the furniture abruptly shortly after scratching her head at last. "I'm still surprised sometimes those black cars are like shot across the bow out of the blue." Thereafter the pairing gravely thoughtless dashed out of the cabin shortly after catching a swift glimpse of the forsaken miniature entity dumped in the middle of the outdoor area without an ado.

Little did they know what they might discover embroidered on its Polaroid lucid photograph whose owner yet aroused abundance of questions before even landing their pair of cabochons to imbibe each discrete detail illustrated authentically extraordinary on its one of a kind masterpiece. Little did they know who might be the photographer behind its mystic Polaroid picture. One item could be the mystery of the decade or the whole time in the entire history since its celestially outstanding existence. So little to no evidence and vague brief history behind its unique item.

Everything possess even modicum of history beyond its upon mystic identity and segments constructing its real anatomy. Regardless its grand cloud of mysteries hazing every ounce of the unsolved puzzle, it was never too late its adventurously curious enthusiasts to dig persistently its hole until the treasure was utterly discovered and they could wear proudly the title of the first people solving the troubling puzzle as well.

"Do ya a flashlight with ya, Lydia?" Meantime, the middle-aged pairing ambled up towards the forsaken picture, whilst the widower registered to lick greedily demanding his nude, chapped lips and his childishly immense excitement to investigate the small entity somehow spellbinded its enthrallingly bewitching hex of the heart pulses' acceleration violently humdrum thumping into his torso.

"Of course, I do!" On their mission to approach the Polaroid photograph, therefore one of the free petite, smooth hands of the cop retrieved a flashlight from her trousers' pocket and her orthodoxy feather-soft fingers working on fiddle clumsily the switcher instantaneously to cast its brightly golden illumination spotlighting prominently the center of their current attention. "It's fucking unbelievable there are such bastards that can bamboozle you in variety of alternatives to snatch you in their own traps by blindly trusting the abandoned shit that is part of their plan." A low hum accompanying the weak spring breeze tickling and fanning freely, mischievously the widower and the homosexual's attires and hairs emitted dully from the younger woman's pursed lips until the middle-aged gentleman hunkered down past the Polaroid picture and examining it in a scrutiny as his fingertips grasped gingerly the flimsy tissue.

"Sweet Jesus of God!" Reciting in a mumble the sharp reprimand at the diabolically flagrant photograph of a middle-aged lady whose delicate facial attributes charmingly extraordinary accented the light-heavy wrinkles adorning her silken complexion, bonded with her sparkling, prim smile tugging at the corner of her lip as she posed to the ill-famed member of KKK that resembled as if his age was with a couple of the blonde lady's seniors as well. "I didn't see that coming, Lydia!" Then his lapis lazuli huge, roundish jewels landed on the redhead who channelized to hunker down along with the older man, maintaining an appropriately intimate, platonic proximity even if it was barely an inch and pursuing agitatedly uneasy for her stare in approval. The thousand patterns of glee no longer embellished their faces and recently replaced with infernally faddish pouts curving upon their mouths, illustrating their remarkable resentment to the KKK member and the presumable lady on the photo by judging her age.

"Who could drop a cryptic photograph of a KKK member posing with a normal civilian like her?" At the moment, they flipped the picture, in order to acknowledge further facts beyond the mystery of the entity, besides opting to fuel their speculations and crude questions without any absolute answers that could emulate to the truth. The partly haggard ink ornamenting the frail paper on the back of the Polaroid picture etched each letter and the mystic manuscript chronicling briefly the entity's birth date, place and so forth in general. "That's the raisin at the end of the hotdog. Even the most vicious criminal wouldn't even drop an ounce of his prominent paraphernalia on his mission to play his cards right."

**20th of June, 1905**

**Maureen Loren Martin**

"M-Martin?" The haphazardness of the series of stutters reproduced by the vowels and syllables clashing for domination to build the last name of the former nun's deceased grandmother almost died on the platonic duo's berry-coloured tongues, transfixing their childlike inquisitive gawks pronging the shocking landscape of the back of the picture and then flipping on the main side to scan once again the photo's discreet, controversial details circumscribing one of Jude's family members that has any associations with the ominously notorious organization. Little did they know beyond the photograph's ultimate history to judge more except superficially its sleekly apparent details painted grisly. Pinching widely opened their embers and kindling its amenably fierce flares to leak its pale illumination of their recent humors breaking their facial expressions promptly as if the flimsiest, the most extravagant glass of a cool beverage has no longer settled on its new home the table and instead being nudged bluntly ruthless, aiming to its own apocalyptic quietus with an ambiguous end in final cases even if the sequel couldn't be less worse than its original exemplar, itself.

"That's impossible!"

"I can't believe whoever it could be even one of the unholy messengers of the evil," Baring balefully his pearly-white, firm teeth at the very photo even when his gaze petered out its fresh glossiness adorning his indiscernible jet-black pupils, the widower's blood boiled vindictively, hardly knowing who could be behind the tossed photo out of the vehicle to soil the name of his friend even if he knew the back story and almost each segment of her family that had any associations and encounters with the wickedness. "Or God opting to soil the freaking name of my friend's grandmother is capable of," Almost petering out his vocal stings to function adequately due to the dazzlingly peculiar nonplus and loss of words, the older man registered to smack a weak slap across his forehead even if it was heeded by Lydia Jane's leery gaze, studiously inspecting every discreetly controversial detail beyond the compact entity's heinous vista. "Damn! I am at loss of words."

"What the hell Judy's grandmother has to do with the fucking KKK?" Obvious lividness foamed slowly but surely Lydia Jane's Florida lilt, ferociously puncturing her reprimanding inquiry and manipulating to knit her eyebrows to the bridge of her delicate eyebrows graciously sardonic, yet attempting to obscure her wrath due to the fact that the woman whom she had an accident with a few months ago, one of her family members that is no longer midst the mortal living beings has a grisly past and its wee piece of evidence. "Did this blonde have completely lost her mind?"

"Lydia, look!" During his villainously iron-willed attempts to bubble the redhead's attention to engulf into his nonchalantly rational utterance, roaring its authoritative wisdom to defend his old, loyal friend, in spite of her grandmother's gloomy past and interactions with the vindictively ill-famed organization. Manifesting to paw amicably, lightly the redhead's shoulder blade, meanwhile, the former cop abraded headstrongly his piercing, brutally honest azure blue gemstones to maintain its stable eye contact with the twain of smoky quartz.

"Why I have to fucking listen to you since you are friends with somebody that has associations with that organization that is responsible for the deaths of thousands of Afro-Americans?"

"Hush! Jude's grandmother has never supported their fugly agenda." Hitch encumbered Frank's uneven breathing, whereas the megawatt tension of his monologue intensified starkly sinister and flushing a heavy sigh. "Never! She didn't have other choice even when Maureen had fought for herself."

\- A Handful of Days Later -

\- 11th of April, 1966 -

Just a handful of days after the phenomenally homesick, refreshingly delightful return of the Howards back in Hartford as they fled their romantic destination that bestowed them with galore of fashionably enticing, remarkable memories to inundate their vortex of thoughts, thus they couldn't be any longer patient to gather with their small circle of close friends momentarily. Due to their one week romantic destination to one of the small cities of Tennessee, the wed couple have unceasingly stockpiled its luxuriously luster cataract of memories and breathtakingly unspeakable moments, besides being struck by the enthrallingly unique nature they were palisaded.

The extraordinarily majestic luster of its incessantly stream of the chromatic cataract glittered its own prominent memories confine and ominously docile paddling against the very nature of the wavelets perkily waltzing in the valley of memories. The one of a kind serenely inward, reassuring drone of the series of conjugated plashes of the wavelets against the gigantic rocks bordering the beauteously enticing natural landscape of the waterfall and its flock of riffles escorting heinously humble.

The memories and its vividly explicit flash inexorably beset every functioning thought in its prey of the reminiscence abruptly. They were as swift as lighting bolts. They were as majestically eye-catching as forbidden fruit's insatiably coveted temptation. They were as inevitably poetic as a brief poem, learnt by heart to be recited vibrantly emotional, speaking volumes beyond its one of a kind masterpiece.

Nothing can powder with its cloying flavor of the bittersweetness the very memories the former members of the clergy rode its dynamic roller coaster, coveting to bring back the time and rewind back in the past when their honeymoon dawdled its bewitchingly relaxing waltz. The pure disappointment couldn't even daredevil dare to sweeten their tongue tips whenever they savored even modicum of their outstandingly memorable honeymoon in Adams. The reminiscence's inebriating medicament danced on their tongues once they demonically straightforward broached the very topic about their one of a kind honeymoon for a week somewhere different. Much different site for the wed couples could even spend a handful of days. Discovering its esthetically graceful other side of the romance even if it was mildly darker. More uncommon. There were somewhat rare cases of married pairings who were spending their honeymoon hazardously nowhere else than in smaller cities or rather fiendishly haunted. They couldn't be exactly interpreted in certain cases haunted in first place. They might be just articulated as one of the children of the bloodthirstily hair-rising, unthinkable notoriety soiling their very names shortly after its prying passionate enthusiasts hankered the symphony of its complex, cardinal history and getting to know the darker side, or on the contrary the true nature of the city, itself.

Within their return back in Hartford, Vermont, the Howards eavesdropped to ocean of breaking news during their very absence and acknowledging the fact that Frank has interacted with the Floridian, besides he was the only one who obscured from anybody else the controversially ill-famed photograph of Jude's deceased grandmother Maureen with a member of KKK. Even though the initial reactions from Jude and Timothy were more than megawatt panic breaking their facial expressions and cracking their hearts with its inescapable ethereally insecure heart pulses throbbing into their chests, they spent modicum of their leisure to discuss the grisly topic as Jude solemnly explained to her husband about the back story of the photograph.

Little did they know who might be truly responsible for tossing its photograph out of the pitch-black vehicle that was parked on one of the free parking lots a few nights ago during the widower's nightshift and his friendly interaction with the policewoman, according to his words. Even though their speculations that the higher chances of Cayden to be beyond the conspiracy aroused their passionate ardor to ruin him and their exuberant rage pulsated into their frail skeletons accompanying the vehement simmer of their bloods pumping into their very veins and heating swelteringly uneven their delicate epidermis.

As soon as Madeleine and the former pious sister of the church finished their day shift in the flower store, afterwards they were on their way to home. Little did they know what might anticipate them eagerly behind the very walls of the two-story mansion after a long, dynamic day vending a rich diversity of flowers and plants in the company of the former prostitute and her daughter. Solely the delightfully bewitching, unique illustration of reuniting ominously headstrong with her family and beholding their beamingly gorgeous faces adorned with silken and glossy smiles, shimmering past their eyesight that were underneath its tiresome domino's rigid texture of fatigue obscuring their exquisite facial attributes.

A quarter an hour ago, the former aspiring Monsignor accepted the prying journalist to be hosted in the privately owned property, whilst Edward Ralph was sitting in his high chair, participating in the company of the platonic duo even if he played its eminent role of a third wheel at times.

In the meanwhile, the journalist has childlikely mousy seated on the kitchen table, maintaining an appropriately kindhearted eye contact with the former aspiring Monsignor whose larger frame meagerly inched the counter, whereas his bare patience seamlessly fumed as the translucent liquid partly swamping the kettle for the tea hasn't emitted a single humdrum, peculiar noise yet to pitch the background. The early evening spring's promiscuously spellbinding sunset celestially vibrant hues pullulated extremely fervent through the shut window and authentically wonderful curtained the brunette and the British compatriot's charming facial attributes. The four-month-old kitten was recently standing beside his cat bowl and maneuvering his tiny, white teeth to grind frequently to scatter its wee food chunks of cat food lingering its presence on his strawberry-coloured tongue nonetheless. Tremendously razor-edged focus on enduring the dozens of channelized bluntly restless grinds of teeth to gnaw to pieces each food chunk with its marvelously mouth-watering flavor sweetening his tongue tip.

The crickets' songs composed its own recklessly honey-mouthed, refreshingly beguiling ode coupled with the serenely comforting birdsongs harrowing the two-story mansion's monumental yard. The genuine notion of the tranquility asphyxiated the tensely uncomfortable, disquieting doldrum with an ease even the grandiose trees that towered like wonderfully enormous mountains joining in its fantastically eye-catching fairy tale illustration.

"How has being your current life out of Briarcliff?" At the moment, the former devotional man of the cloth managed to paw gently, modestly the countertop, whereas his smoky quartz big, roundish gemstones imbibed the brunette's porcelain, youthful complexion and then shooting a quick glance at his son and Stephen for a split second as he struggled to buff a radiantly benevolent, altruistically weak smile flourishing upon his nude mouth. "What about Jude's?" The middle-aged woman's orthodoxy petite, brittle hands gingerly pawed the kitchen table and the unnervingly dull drum of her fingertips against the furniture's carpet swathing pleasantly seamless, brushing featherly-soft its tender fabric frequently on reflex.

"We're doing good. We can't even complain about our lives." The haphazardness of the British aristocrat's deftness of the fat of his tongue shortly after the blood-curdlingly obdurate ordeal to construct his impending utterance through chaotically webbed vowels and syllables etching his graciously velvety, breathtaking British lilt's sharp accent tingled angelic anthems into the reporter's amenable ears. At the moment, the reporter's sheer oblivion rumbling to her peripheral eye and marvelously sly instincts and intuition to detect anything occurring in a different angle and segment of the kitchen rippled her overall arms and legs with rich crop of horripilation underneath her convenient garments. "We have had our fights and ordeals in our best and our worst as well."

"That's pretty interesting!" Twitching her lower angelically cherubic, rosy-coloured lip at the utterance, a consolingly sympathetic smile embellished her façade, barely averting her gaze from Timothy's. A starkly relentless, vindictively inauspicious blush darkened sympathetically the former holy priest's parchment, freshly youthful façade and spotlighting magnificently his handsome facial features, accompanying the ruthlessly mirthful crinkles of his light-heavy wrinkles and elegant dimples inscribed their own individual inescapable curves mapping meagerly his facial skin. Sweltering heat hypodermically crept beneath his fleshy, well-sculptured cheeks while the platonic pairing escorted the six-month-old baby's gutturally hoarse, merry chuckles bubbling up from their throats. "I bet you have had your worst times when you couldn't even look at each other."

"It's true." Suddenly the British compatriot channelized to retrieve two brilliantly empty, clean mugs from the kitchen cabinet and settling them cozily on top of the counter as his fleshy toes curled into his pair of comfy slippers. A heavy, jaded sigh seethed the homosexual's torso and coursing its gruffily crude snort through her tiny, flexible nostrils, sensing a twain of huge, round gemstones whose owner couldn't be even older than a half a year old youngster inquisitively surveyed her in a scrutiny and glinting its fantastically crystal diamonds of mild skepticism past his indistinctive black pupils. "There are times when the fights are even worth just to intensify its outstanding chemistry you possess and working on the problems you are rumbling up to." A soar lump at the very thought of the gloomy past the former members of the clergy have confronted a couple of weeks ago even longer struggled to convey its friendly reminder to immediately release its burden hypodermically simmering his Adam's apple brassly iron-willed. "Tell me more about your current life when the fame is your golden star to pursue."

"Well, I'm having my own fresh start with new ambience even if it's not the same as well!" The suddenness of the sea of tiny bubbles cheerfully chanting its inwardly monotonous chanson followed by hackling the liquid's seamless blanket engulfed the British aristocrat's attention in no time, whereas the austerely lugubriousness vastly vomited into her revelation and draining every healthy palette of glossy, satin paleness canvassing her full, oval profile. "I lost my girlfriend due to that psychiatrist that was initially appointed for Kit's treatment. Many things happened in a New York minute!"

"I'm sincerely sorry about your girlfriend's loss!"

"You don't have to! I'm having mixed feelings about her."

"I don't want to be attacking Jude and so forth, but you didn't truly deserve to suffer after all. After everything that happened." Shortly before his cocoa brown big, roundish gems glided to examine in a scrutiny the process of the simmering translucent liquid, he registered to shake a couple of times slowly but surely, somberly his head at the thought of his contemporary wife blackmailing Lana's deceased girlfriend to be the crucial motive behind Lana's imprisonment against her will inside the nefariously villainous, bone-chilling mental hospital for criminally insane. "She mustn't had blackmailed your girlfriend just to put you through the hell you the least deserved."

"You are always full of surprises, Timothy!"

"Dada!" All of a sudden, the youngster's baby-pinkish, cherub lips channelized to craft a sweet coo drawing the adults' attentions promptly, whilst protracting his pudgy, satin arms into the thin air.

"Aww, he's immensely adorable a little ray pitch of sunshine!" Optimistically sunny, poetically bright grins curved upon the brunette and the former ambitious Monsignor's oral slits momentarily at the sweet babyish coo, whereas she managed to cup in the palm of her amusingly warm, petite hand Edward Ralph's well-carved, chubby cheek. "Thanks to you and Jude I'm no longer gliding through the miserable remnants of that hellhole!"

Meantime, the front door whined heinously notorious at the prospect of the Michiganian and the Bostonian setting foot inside the corridor of the façade eventually after their tough, long day in the flower store, catching off guard the trio.

"That's Jude and her the best of friends!"

**Author's Note: I'm candidly apologizing for the slow updates, due to a few reasons I am genuinely blaming myself for not pleasing its regular Wings of Light readers:**

**1\. I was somewhat desperately running out of ideas and motivation even though my solemn vows to keep this story freshly updated a week at least.**

**2\. School can be a genuine chaos sometimes. I mean even if I'm trying my best to separate some time to write and please my active readers, nevertheless, it doesn't work at all. **

**Moreover, what ar**

**e your thoughts on the first scene or rather the flashback with younger Madeleine where she confronts her ex along with his new girlfriend? Did I kill your expectancies with the previous chapter's cliffhanger when eventually the main topic Andrea bonded Frank and Lydia Jane? Do you think Lydia Jane and Frank would make great friends, in spite of the circumstances? **

**If you have sincerely enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to leave a feedback! I'd like to hear your honest thoughts. :))**


	36. A Lesson in Sublety

**Previously on Wings of Light: **

_"I was thinking it's better to listen to your version instead of keep ignoring me and soiling yourself by switching abruptly your partners like in a New York minute."_

_"First and foremost, you're incredibly overreacting which aided me to see through your showed true colors, Maddie! I knew so far that... that you wouldn't be capable of breaking my heart with your Drama Queen persona that I have perpetually studied during this time we've been together. Anyway the damage has already being done to me."_

"I didn't mean to bring it up, howsoever, are ya actually Andrea's friend?"

"How do you know that I am a friend of Andrea?"

"We're doing good. We can't even complain about our lives. We have had our fights and ordeals in our best and our worst as well."

"That's pretty interesting! I bet you have had your worst times when you couldn't even look at each other."

"It's just great to be at home again!" A low honey-mouthed hum in approval sloppily clumsy expelled from the young woman's nude pink, plump mouth on her extraordinarily gracious mission to aid her mother figure to peel off her casual cashmere peacock blue hugging her torso as its perky hem flares against her pelvis, whereas the former nun felt pristinely smooth, dexterous fingers toying gently the fabric and working on discarding the garment until channelizing to hang it on the coat hanger at last. A vibrantly sunny smile elaborated to buff the former pious nun's naturally roseate, lusciously plump lips, pearly hedonistic appreciating her daughter figure's celestially gilt aid. "I truly appreciate yar help, Maddie!"

"You don't need to thank me whenever I'm just saving your time and woes as well!" Darting a cheerful wink at her mentor, Madeleine's efficiently infectious, lethally venomous smirk broadened abruptly past her pink mouth. The genuine sentiment of discarding even the most light-heavy garment guarding her eminent outfit, nevertheless, it conveyed to Jude its friendly reminder to be enveloped in the convenient ambience's kindheartedly tight, doting hug snaking its invisibly velvet arms cocooning promisingly her petite-frame. The medley of the delightful fragrances of freshly brewed tea and enigmatically breathtaking jasmine wafted into the noses of the female duo lingering their very presences in the corridor and trading with one another gutturally healthy, jovial giggles clicking the roof of their mouths to perform their sardonic cheerfulness at Madeleine's utterance. "I'm not some kind of a cloth hanger, however, I just enjoy helping the loved ones that don't deserve even to waste modicum of their energy and time for something even if they are in no hurry." At the moment, the middle-aged woman managed to kick off her jet-black flats and hopping up in a pair of comfy slippers shoeing her petite, flimsy feet on her mission to march towards the kitchen in the company of her protégé until the prospect of the four-month-old kitten, the six-month-old youngster and the adult platonic duo glimmered vividly past their eyesight, illustrated in its most brightly realistic brushes etching every discrete detail.

"Yar kindness never fails to astonish me!" A heavy, cold-bloodedly dry snort surged through the middle-aged lady's tiny, flexible nostrils whilst propping unhurriedly on the polished doorframe, whereas the Michiganian ventured up inside the kitchen's interior and seating nonchalantly at the kitchen table. The sinisterly obdurate attempts of the Michiganian's rage's severe pulsations into her petite-frame at the prospect of the brunette escorting the youngster and the former pious member of the clergy simmered vigorously into her veins and the categorically invincible course of the cataract of adrenaline that greatly blended its blood's boil. Even if she had once exchanged a guiltless colloquy with the brunette and knew about her famous persona years prior before moving into Hartford with her older brother, besides eavesdropping somewhat facts about Jude's experience with the fame-hungry journalist, yet the juvenile saleswoman couldn't even tote its thunderous weight of serpentine resentment her feelings manipulated its extraordinary performance spotlighting each element leaking pale enough to be distinctive for its witnesses. The darkened glare twinkling up its passive aggression ferociously kindling her hazelish-brown big, roundish gems once they pronged the journalist's physique sharply. Her straight line flattening remarkably her naturally roseate lips, wearing its thin web of bittersweetness and bitterly relentless emotionlessness speaking volumes about her true sentiments simmering its liquid deposited in a monumental cauldron.

"Oh hey, my rare bird and Maddie!" The haphazardness of the British aristocrat's attention shift to the recent new additions to the site's very assemble didn't wear out his velvety graciousness powdering his informally joyous address to them in the lighter shades of the felicity, whereas his fingertips lingered on the hob's ergonomic knob to conciliate its unconditional heat contacting the silver kettle's surface, forming a light-hearted, broad smile skewing the corners of his pink lips. "I bet after plenty of costumers you had earned visits in the flower store made you going bananas."

"Hi Jude and dear young lady!" In the interval, the Michiganian darted her honey brown minerals to the reporter at the friendly, primly honey-mouthed tones puncturing her address and knitting her eyebrows to the bridge of her dainty, delicate nose eerily scornful followed by the reporter's primly light-hearted chortle. "It seems that you are doing fine and you are just pretending that you see red."

"Hi!" The blonde platonic pairing couldn't stifle a blatantly blunt, demurely velvety giggles floating in the kitchen at the epilogue of the British aristocrat's monologue quivering his bottom lip, whilst Madeleine and Jude's twain of honey brown cabochons landed on him even though their sheerly inebriating oblivion to Lana and Edward Ralph's gazes fixated on them once Jude marched towards her baby son, then shifting her utter attention to him. "We are always going bananas. Every single day even if we are trying our best to be as cool as a cucumber in the toughest situations when certain customers are having even an ounce of daredevil audacity to be the ones making us to clean after them." Lulling her tongue to severely pensive lick her upper and lower plump lip shortly before sealing the meager space of proximity that could emulate to not even an inch dividing the figures' muscles even the most blameless contact.

"Mama!"

"My lovely little cherub angel!" Suddenly the former devotional sister of the church slipped her petite, femininely creamy hands to hoist the six-month-old toddler into her promisingly loving scooped embrace and leaning down to nuzzle his button nose in a discretely welcoming Eskimo kiss. The wholeheartedly heartwarming maternal love the middle-aged lady partnered with her baby son platonically and loving him in every single way more than anything in this world could never peter out even any single fragment of her huge, flimsily gilt heart thumping into her ribcage and sunder perpetually. Their obdurately megawatt bond was inseparable in any kind of way. It would be impossible for Edward Ralph's very existence to ride its dynamic roller coaster without the outstandingly emboldening, heartening support and love he obtained from his both parents or either of them in perhaps the worst cases when either of them ceased from the sight's stage. "Aren't ya hungry, are ya?"

"I just waited for you, due to the fact, we ran out of breast milk in the baby bottle!" Meantime, the British compatriot's naturally baby-pinkish, lusciously plump lips quivered desperately at the caution addressed to his wife once his deft fingers channelized to adjust the hob knobs to ebb off the fiercely sweltering heat zapping the kettle's surface, throughout settling it on the countertop and pouring its healthy liquid to coalesce to the rims of the entities at last. Then the Bostonian scooped in a dotingly inviting, tight embrace the youngster and manifesting to bounce him a handful of times, in order to console him and scarcely retiring her marbled, still young-looking complexion from his during the ethereally timeless Eskimo kiss clinching their nose tips smoothly. "Likewise, do you want some tea?" The childishly pure distraction of Judy due to her utter focus darted to their baby son whilst the former religious holy man sensed to play the protagonist who was actually donned up in the third wheel's mantle eclipsing him even from her peripheral gaze once she planted a feather-soft, benign kiss to Edward Ralph's nose. "Rare bird, are you even listening to me?" The unremittingly relentless decibels' mild increase vacantly caught her off guard momentarily as she widened her pools of abysmally luminous cinnamon brown with inebriating affection.

"Urm, you said that we're running out of breast milk?" Velvety low hum sloppily clumsy drizzled her jaw self-consciously escorting docilely its stutter as her northern lilt punctured the enquiry, struggling to format properly umambiguously, whereas Timothy's fingers ushered the kettle to be pooled to its rim with crystal liquid once the kitchen sink faucets were twisted for a couple of seconds and allowing its cataract of jet water splashing against the kitchen sink's surface. Cluster of honey-mouthed, consolingly nonchalant coos and babbles chimed cheerfully, whereas the bare domino of mirth embellished fashionably the middle-aged woman and their baby son's facial attributes. "Is that only which could be deemed quite urgent?" All of a sudden, the former aspiring Monsignor managed to bob his head in solemn agreement while clearing gruffly, his throat with the palm of his colossal, milky hand promptly. The heavenly release of the bitter lump seething his Adam's apple was midst the most awkward moments that have ever been staged non-verbally and the very thought of emitting a blatantly dry, cold-bloodedly shrill cough pitching the site with his own ballad even if it wasn't composed in dozens of vowels and syllables' etched constructions eventually.

"Well, it's not that urgent, but would you like some tea?"

"No! I'm good without it, darling!" Then the former religious woman of the cloth approached the dining table, registering to seat alongside her daughter figure and poise Edward Ralph with one of her leanly strong, satin arm, whereas her other hand's ghostly pale, pixie-like fingers worked on undoing a couple of buttons until it peaked to her lower abdomen to leak her vulnerable milky torso that was solely buckled with a convenient sable lacy bra plastering to guard her sore, naturally plum nipples and soft fat at each vigorous motion such as jogging, ambling and so forth. "However, better Lana and Maddie to not have a chip on each other's shoulder." She shot a swift glance to the hideously antagonistic duo Lana and Madeleine formulated via their facial expressions' brightly baffling contrast. The unspeakably significant difference between Madeleine and Lana's distinctive facial expressions' hidden message behind their beautiful facial attributes' very ripples of their lower eyelids and buffing thousand patterns of emphatic ambiguousness their oral slits couldn't be more apparent. "It genuinely spotlights that sharp accent of their hostility especially Maddie." The haphazardness of the former ambitious Monsignor crooking his fingers to grapple the mugs' handles and roosting them on top of the dining table for himself and the brunette, whilst taking a seat cozily elegant and worrying his front pearly-white teeth to nibble his bottom chapped lip. "Maddie, I know how much ya can't stand her, but give her an ounce of respect since she's a friend of us!"

"I'm not going to give somebody respect for casting a cloud over their friends for their own cheap celebrity story, come rain or shine!"

"Maddie, I gave her the freedom she deserved for better or worse," Rolling categorically sardonic her eyes at the older blonde's reprimand, a remarkable medley of stark disappointment and dim vexation ambiguously each etched vowel and syllable's abraded structure of her monologue, whereas the brunette's calmness yet engrained her youthfully fresh facial features as her nimble, marbled fingers danced around the cup's handle and lugged it up to swig a handful of tiny, timid sips from the hot tea even though its sip faintly singed the fat of her strawberry-coloured tongue. "Even if she is yar worst foe, she hasn't murdered and skinned corpses like you know who. That is something to make you changing your mind somehow about her!"

"You think everybody is saint even when they are aiming to the fame as they are thinking their stories and cheesy shit they offer to gild them as the big deal."

"Don't ever forget she really had to kill somebody who absolutely ruined her-" At the moment, the Bostonian readjusted the youngster into her hug whilst guiding him as he ushered his baby-pinkish, fleshy lips to wrap around her sore plum nipple and subsequently suckling its natural breast milk, utterly oblivious to the potent tension erecting its invisible barriers of the impulse and rage warding the kitchen. A bittersweet pout flattened the juvenile blonde's plumpish lips just seconds before cutting off curtly the former nun.

"I second that the homicide in final cases like self-defense are totally acceptable, however, once she dares to even include my name in her pathetic story," Bleating a ruthlessly blunt slurp during his mission to graze his biological mother's nipple and swig it remaining waterfall of alabaster liquid staining his nude, cherub lips, meantime, the former sleazy jazz nightclub singer gingerly cradled her son's head in her tender, uniquely meaningful paw whilst abrading its stable eye contact with the younger ladies even her husband whose hoary passivity tinged his smoky quartz bijous during the tension's savage escalation. A heavy, jadedly dry snort coursed through the Michiganian's button nose and shooting her piercingly fiery glare at the brunette's innocuous domino unmasking her true face of her epitome's portrayal, whereas curling her petite, creamy hands into balled fists stealthily under the kitchen table and opting to abrade her tone nonchalant even if the medley of sheer resentment, wild wrath and invincible disgust avidly toting every fleece of monologue's progress trance into an afflictively straightforward revelation. "Or eventually yours as if she is selling her own soul to the devil, she will better my eat hat and we shall see the consequences of the whole dilemma just to paint gold your names just because of what her ego growls like a ferociously peckish wolf," Lingering her fashioned hands into balled fists roared its tremble motion heinously frosty aerating through her veins and brilliantly commingling with the livid roast of her heated blood, whereas a grimace buffed her tonic facial features, bearing a semblance of unpropitious plague instilling every healthy palette of glossiness and crispy callowness camouflaging the Michiganian. "Yearning for that raw meat days after letting himself starving and struggling to rise from the ashes." The click of her berry-coloured tongue hopelessly strong-willed, swarm of medley of pinched widened moons were fixated on her that truly epitomized their arrant emotionlessness and eerie bafflement glinting against their indiscernible jet-black pupils.

Even though Lana and Timothy couldn't put a finger on the baleful circumstance about the juvenile blonde scarcely banishing her sorely painful monologue about the reporter erupting its venomously serpentine timbre accompanying the nausea undulating in the pit of her stomach at the vista of beholding even her façade, Madeleine didn't have any tolerance for anybody that dared to endanger diabolically hazardous the Howards' numbering herself just for a fame-hungry reporter intractably launching her top priorities on the fame and eavesdropping her name being entwined in a wide circle of people one day once visiting any public places. Unlike Timothy and Lana's lethal shocks paralyzing their palish façades, the former devotional holy woman's stunning facial attributes plummeted down its childlike radiance and versatile glee stain sticky clinging its domino of her recent humor interpreting her inescapable reaction to her daughter figure's words that left her fleshy pink lips like a musical note at every drum of the fingertips against the slim piano keys. At least, what it was better for the six-month-old toddler was that he didn't have any clue in the conflictingly fiery ruckus between the journalist and the juvenile saleswoman.

"I'm purely shocked you are even giving her attention just to sell your names for her forthcoming book." The unexplainable vulnerability the Howards sensed just contemplating through the thin veil of efficiently infectious ire barking through Madeleine's very bones and muscles, whereas she managed to lift up her rear from the chair and approaching the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Jim Beam whiskey, afterwards retrieving a scotch glass from the upper kitchen cabinet and pouring herself from the sinfully indulgent brown liquor merging to the rim of the miniature entity. "Are you losing your minds over a journalist that doesn't know even what the hell she is bringing to the audience as authentic information, aren't you? I cannot trust her at all."

"L-Look what, Maddie!" The suddenness of the British aristocrat's unholy nonchalance to attempt to engulf Madeleine's demonically stubborn nature to refine her very accent into his British lilt's stammer caught her off guard once she hooked her fingers circa the scotch glass to heave its light-heavy entity and slugging a few wee sips from the brown liquor greasing its virulently palatable past her rosy-coloured, cherub mouth. A composed grimace crinkled the British aristocrat's lower eyelids, light-heavy wrinkles and perky dimples inscribing its swan, sufficiently deep curves sketching his facial structure. "Lana can help us! Thanks to her, we can do one of the essential things that could change every Vermontian's life. It's not that I'm finely agreeing with her story, howsoever, you have to see some light beneath everything that rises up the bile in your throat."

"The cruelest thing of all is a false hope!" Shortly after putting the bottle of Jim Beam whiskey back in the refrigerator and slamming shut the door, whilst her virginally dainty fingers braced the miniature entity and propping her elbow with her other free hand, thus Madeleine reclined dilatorily against the counter and her hazelish-brown moons glazed the tetrad until she sensed the delightfully sleek daub of Stephen's head against her bony ankle and his mouth crafting cluster of gracefully silky meows. What it initially flinched her was the eventual cat's non-verbal contact with her ankle and ushering her cinnamon brown gemstones to land on the charcoal gray kitten bestowing her with myriad of baleful affection through his head rubs. The abruptness of paralysis twisted across her crispy facial structure didn't fail to dumbfound her meager formed audience seating at the kitchen table. "Aww, what a tiny fluffy ball are you, aren't you?" Meanwhile, the young saleswoman crouched down shortly after dumping her glass on the countertop to channelize her elvish hand to stroke gently the four-month-kitten who lulled his midget strawberry-coloured tongue licking greedily his greasy-stained muzzle whilst his dyad of feline green gemstones glazed up the Michiganian during his arduously effortless attempts to appease each ounce, whose sinisterly severe pulsation throbbing into her frail skeleton.

"Lana," The abruptness of the former devotional man of the cloth's bleated playful bark at the reporter to avert her crude accent from the Michiganian's stance anomaly from the berserk into passive unmasking her baneful crossness, whereas her coffee brown optics wafted to Timothy's altruistically sympathy enciphered his handsome face. The megawatt amplification of Lana's heart pulses thudding into her chests didn't fail to dally sluggishly underneath her bony armor syncing its hammers into her petite, vulnerable ears. "Forgive Maddie! She isn't very fond of certain strangers especially journalists and somebody having associations with the popularity."

"I can see that!"

\- _A Week Later_ -

\- _18__th__ of April, 1966_ -

A week later after the bleakly bland bicker of Madeleine towards Lana even when her stout intuition and brilliant instincts urged the young lady about her foe's actual intentions, a couple of events bled into the week episode that could be interpreted in manifold versions the behind-the-scenes and crudely superficial events structuring every prominent segment. Midst the structure of the events' segments were not only the daily routine in the flower store and being run by Jude, Andrea, Cassandra and Madeleine, but also Lana's regular visits in the Howards' property that actually happened per a few days at least, a big family dinner night that consisted its members besides the Howards the Michiganian with her older brother, the former prostitute along with her nuclear family, Frank and Nikita exchanging a couple of hours in babbling outspokenly shenanigans, eating and drinking.

The time was ethereally timeless at its sluggish pace of the monotonous hum of the car engine's chime depending on the moments that could be gradually interpreted in an extreme torment that could take even a decade to indicate its wee progress. There were times or rather it s sketched line that formatted the borderline of the moderate pace's progression and the genuine notion of trance into the future. Sometimes the tempo's advancement contrived its versatile swiftness transgression into the unnerving stride of each elapsing second that enshroud each ounce of the past gloomily. It resembled a brassly argent fog lofting significantly into the thin air and obscuring every living being's vision on their mission to their dream destinations while utterly controlling on their own vehicles.

The wee hours of the mid-April afternoon bled into the medley of copper, topaz and sapphire's palette tinging the spring panorama, conducting the assemble of the roundish aureate sun's mount of the cloudless sky. The toothsome honeyed birdsongs vehemently bonging the very panorama entangling the stitches of every veritably distinctive detail of Hartford's every fragment construction.

Oddly, the Michiganian had a day-off from the flower store and leaving Cassandra along with Jude and Andrea having utter control over everything ongoing behind the scenes of the miniature facility. Sometimes either of the cardinal saleswomen in the flower store can have even a day-off from their workplace, due to opulent of reasons even if according to the austere rules they can exert their brief break in the range of a week and twice a year, in spite of depending on their stringent responsibility and raw accomplishment of their very duties during their shifts as well. Even when the Michiganian struggled to halt her overwhelmedness to prevail her chance to construct her own outstandingly interesting day that wasn't depositing solely hard-work and exceedingly immense stress in her communication with the customers and guiding them to certain flowers and plants that were initially fogging with disorientation, yet she was herself and another one of a kind individual that desired for modicum of freedom to develop perpetually her private and social life behind the scenes after all.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, the juvenile lady decided to sign to attend yoga classes nearby her home as the classes were twice a week and she could bring a bag of her yoga equipment such as ordinarily practical emerald green three-quarter trousers coupled with a cotton jet-black training bra. In a couple of minutes preparation in the women's locker room to get ready for her first yoga class, besides tying her halo ringlet of richly luster gilt locks into a high ponytail towering the back of her skull firmly as a fistful of unruly locks curtained exquisitely her oval profile.

The genuine concept of attending yoga classes twice a week couldn't be more a meaningful relaxation for the flower store saleswoman after spending several hours almost daily with her mother figure paired with her friends even when there were a couple of urgently mercurial clients that could be the bona fide exemplar of the sanguinary stress and vast ire rippling the very muscles of the owners that tried their best to guide them and communicate with them. Sometimes the vast grizzly stress and the brass exasperation could no longer be endured by Jude's daughter figure that had decided to practice some yoga.

After venturing up inside the main room where a sea of nobodies were gathered, gracefully avid anticipating for the instructor's arrival in the site, the very presence of the blonde oddly caught its dyads of bijous gimleting her petite-frame who was looming its foreign exemplar that mesmerized the others that didn't appear to be novices in the sphere of the relaxing sport. Even if it was her first time to practice yoga class with the nobodies that were passionate enthusiasts about the peculiar sport, yet the ominously vitriolic marsh inundated the pit of her stomach and infectiously breaking her facial expression into ultimately passive. Struggling to abrade an eerie flat line to decorate her palish, young-looking profile, the Michiganian manifested to lodging on top of the solely available teal yoga mat.

The brine of nobodies whose age range alternated between young children, adolescents, young adults, middle-aged and seniors outnumbering the Michiganian whose destination to the desolated teal yoga mat didn't take her than a quarter a minute to conquer her own territory like an unimaginably invincible, hard-hearted gladiator leading its troop to the tractable zone. Every yoga mat had its own trainee bedaubing their fleshy figures against the soft fabric of the rug. Heaving a cold-bloodedly jaded, relentless sigh seething Madeleine's feminine Adam apple, she examined in a scrutiny the entire site that was sufficiently capacious to stock fifteen people per a class as her caramel brown abyss studiously scanned every salient even discrete detail, in spite of a familiar face whose wheelchair was dumped with a few inches parting her petite-frame folding her legs.

The notorious serial killer's daughter. Or rather Jekyll and Hyde lite Martha Gray.

Opulence of questions whirled furiously in the saleswoman's blizzard of thoughts which answers were unavoidable foggy at the time. How the medical student could be capable of practicing yoga even when she had physical disabilities just a few weeks after the bloodthirstily unimaginable window accident? Was it some kind of a coincidence their reunion to be situated somewhere else except the salon that metamorphosed into a training battlefield of stringent diligence and bare discipline greatly alloying together? What are the real motives behind attending yoga classes?

The bitter flavor of the notorious serial killer's daughter name singed Madeleine's tongue even once the very presence of Martha divvying a half a meter ideally adequate distance could remorselessly plunging the younger woman's attention to one of her foes that was far cry from physically tough to resist the farther damages of her attackers. Even if Madeleine's passive aggression barrenly fringed her femininely dainty facial attributes painfully to mirror her utter nonchalance masking her facial expression unlike the untouchable fuel of dream scenarios she was recently descending in the preternatural realm of the brashly inebriating reverie, besides replenishing every patchy gap with an ease. Perhaps until the reality and somebody was the crucial antagonist to snap her out of her preternatural realm of the reverie and the small world of her own divinely unnatural fantasies even scarcely possible scenarios to gear and articulate their own language out of the barriers.

Although the harsh affliction the brunette has rode its dynamic roller coaster ascending to her impending goals and descending forth to her woeful tribulations, yet the far cry from foreign heartwarmingly heartache sentiment glittered luminously in the blonde's chest to sear her frail heart at the rueful landscape of the medical student being midst the sole disabled disciples. Even if the blonde wasn't midst the spiritual acolytes of the brassly vicious vices consuming her in a seamless remorse of her baneful mercilessness towards her foes and traitors that have imperiled not only her life, but also the Howards who were the best of her friends in every single way, sometimes she could no longer manipulate its stoic transgression trancing through her veins to swelteringly scorch its scarlet liquid's antsily rich brook.

"Good day to you all!" The suddenness of the sole door in the whole saloon's roomy space swung widely opened at the panorama of the instructor's petite-frame jogging agreeably to her yoga mat in a long stride, attempting to orbiting swiftly a couple of disciple caught off guard the enormous mass of nobodies reckoning Madeleine and Martha. The graciously mellifluous New Jersey lilt deflated the severe torrent of infective discomfort stewing in the pits of the clearly apparent freshers participating in the crowd of nobodies that were solemnly looking forward to the yoga classes to alter their daily routine and drastically soothe their nerves. "It's fantastic to see you again back on the ball after the last time when practiced our important lessons for novices which will be endured like a straight month at least." Her pools of profoundly warm lapis lazuli scanned each nobody reckoning the new face of her class's addition until they landed on the juvenile saleswoman whose cinnamon brown depths kindled once the medical student's chocolate brown, ablaze with fervent emotionlessness and glassiness fending her eyeballs' structure and its lukewarmly translucent glint of the ordeals sinisterly crinkling its dark circles under her eyelids, incarnating the crudely true nature of her insomnia, gruesome melancholia and unquestionable aloofness shortly after losing her beloved uncle.

Rueful sentiments ruffled Martha's blizzard of thoughts to behold one of her foes or not exactly a rival joining a yoga class and the least expecting somebody who isn't getting along with her hair-risingly notorious family. Little did Martha know if she could get along with the blonde even though their unspeakable rivalry when it comes up to the grisly past when the brunette was still teaming with her father against all odds, besides fabricating the false story behind the former priest's sexual assault that was far cry from real emulation to the absolute reality. Even though the brunette covet to repair every kind of a patchy blunder from the past up to nowadays where she could team against her father and ultimately fathoming the genuine notion of his atrocities that enveloped not only Cayden in its sable veil of the demise that roared fiercely like a frantically starving hound the relentlessly pliable and defenseless, but also chancily jeopardizing her reputation and name eminently because of the nefariously bloodthirsty serial killer.

What the medical student covet was redeeming herself and rewind back in the ethereally abysmal past to riot against anything Cayden could possibly smack its timelessly painful slap of the Grays' ebony reputation that could be interpreted as nothing else than an intense disgrace! Furthermore, the young woman reciprocate to the inner voices' trenchant echoes whirling and twirling its irate tornado painting in vermilion its very inkling of the invisible demons and angels bestowing her the best advice or otherwise the worst. The majority of the rivalries her father constituted were also articulating every unknown personage's dyad of gems scanning her in a scrutiny as if she was the big-shot of their hurricane of thoughts and trashing them in an unholy eternal void to ponder deeply about her, besides judgmentally interpreting her body language, persona and physical looks.

At least, surprising or not, the yoga instructor didn't seem to utterly recognize the fresher or rather acknowledging what she would be capable of at least. Perhaps as much as the medical undergraduate wasn't the core of the spicy din pitching the very walls of the site, Diana Clara wasn't even prepared to award the nefarious serial killer's daughter with an austere permanent ban to have an access to her classes.

Diana Clara was actually a middle-aged woman in her late thirties with pleasant bronze tan tone highlighting her anatomy and graciously feminine facial attributes. First and foremost, the ginger stood 5'6 solely accompanying her average body structure puncturing its sharp accent of her authentically mesmerizing muscles and curves contoured by her lime green tank top and her pitch-black leggings. Her lion mane of satin crispy ginger tresses were tied in a high ponytail and coiffing flawlessly each stray lock breezily faint lurching to curtain her unblemished, round façade. Her cordately nude, brim lips accommodated obstinately its recurring contagious grin etching at every angle and curve paired with her facial expressions' canvas of her elegantly thin eyebrows formulating the sheer nature of her reactions' manipulated reflection. Last but not least, Diana Clara's birth town is Ocean, New Jersey and spending partly her adolescence until defecting with her older brother to Hartford just shortly before her eighteen birthday eventually. Her full name was Diana Clara Sykes.

"Furthermore, we are having a new fantastic addition to our group which is always a brilliantly unique opportunity to expand our family!" Meantime, the redhead's mellifluously squeaky undertones accented remarkably her opening monologue, whereas the enormous horde of people honed their ears until the disabled brunette and the Michiganian shifted their ultimate attentions to the middle-aged lady. Opulence of childlike inquisitive chasms darted to the middle-aged woman who seated on her separate yoga mat, gesticulating with her spidery bronze fingers articulating its smooth dance of vowels and syllables' fluent construction, eager for the forthcoming torrent of their tasks that will fulfill their very presences' stay in the room. The inescapable reek of human flesh, sweat and steamed feet wafted into each one of a kind's tender nose and effortlessly zymotic dredging the thin air's thickly translucent layer. "Let me introduce that young lady on the teal mat to you!" Ushering the juvenile saleswoman emboldeningly amicable shortly after maneuvering to gesticulate with her petite, creamy hand Madeleine to participate by lifting off her rear from the entity and jogging ordinarily to the ginger whose adequate maintenance was no more than a few inches at least, consequently the younger lady couldn't brashly neglect the sheer opportunity to introduce herself to the beehive of strangers that girdled her. "It's so good to see you, miss! What is your name?" The pure detection of the Michiganian's real age visually without shadow of a doubt didn't actually dumbfound anybody at all even though Martha's noxious apprehension paralyzed her femininely delicate, majestic facial features that could be properly scoured from any perspective's eyesight pronging the discreet details that were far cry from unreadable.

"Hello everybody! It's just wonderful to be part of that kind and majestic family! I'm actually Madeleine Skyler Wilson." Managing to clear gruffly her throat whilst muffling its guttural dryness feather-softly fanning the tender flesh of her palm, throughout Martha was all ears to her father's enemy short introduction as she knitted her dark, femininely thin eyebrows to the bridge of her dainty nose at the illustration of the ginger and the blonde's brief bond that was rather kindheartedly professional lastly. "I have never practiced yoga ever in my life, howsoever, it will be just more than splendid to be part of that community and practicing that pretty relaxing sport for our very bodies, souls and minds." At the moment, the New Jerseyan channelized her elvish hand to paw gingerly the young woman's dainty shoulder and then kneading her shoulder blade as her fingertips and digits timidly brushed the fabric of her training bar. Yet or not, on one hand the juvenile lady sensed its genuine sentiment of the foreign realm she was initially struggling to accommodate, in spite of cusping its girlish demureness knotting its tangles of the undertones of her revelation foaming her rosy-coloured, plump oral slit greatly merging with the unorthodoxy velvet optimism draping the shades of her calmness and radiance to not cease in the thin air like a dim fog in the wee hours of the morning. "Moreover, I'm coming from Michigan, although I came there almost three years ago with my older brother and we are living one of our best and most marvelous years in our lives!" At the thought of her rawly stringent Catholic parents in her birth town, dim nauseous spate inundated hypodermically her abdomen and reproducing its surreptitious saltation of uneasiness taunting her well-sculptured, healthily plump cheeks to darken its shades of paleness in the generous layer of crimson heating its sensitive facial skin. Notwithstanding the circumstances, she refrained to interpret the real motives behind her permanent emigration nowhere else than in Hartford, due to the fact that sometimes she could obtain galore of luxurious versions the strangers have eavesdropped her ballad without even mentioning her parents' very names and the history beyond her adolescence and childhood.

"It's sincerely great to hear that you are coming from somewhere else than to be a native Vermontian, dear young lady! Just for the record that you are already welcome in our big and vastly special family!" Ushering to swat faintly benevolent the fresher's shoulder blade that emulated to a refreshingly warm welcome and friendly introduction just seconds before resuming the class, therefore the Michiganian's fragile heart glowed virulently luminous and tangoing its playfully fervid heart whacks in her ribcage. "Just a question before the end of our wee interview that is watchable by fifteen people at least!" The second nature the yoga instructor has mustered to diligently follow for years of practice and hundreds of impassioned fans of the majestically intriguing sport have unremittingly steady forming her persona with its own bright ideals, motives and purposes eventually. Although the New Jerseyan's excessive open-mindedness spectacularly mingling with her unblemished hospitability, the Michiganian's mixed feelings about the kindness the community she participated and wee inkling of stark prejudices seethed her sea of thoughts unnervingly as she has expected the middle-aged woman's open-mindedness to not exuberantly ineluctable rocket at all. Yet the blonde possessed an ounce of demanding respect for the trainer and it couldn't cease in the limbo unless the circumstances tangoed.

"There was something that quite intrigued me to be jotted down in the list of participants that are solemnly looking forward to practice yoga, besides I'm actually a fan of the healthy lifestyle and to persevere," Scanning warily sedulous the horde of strangers for a split second and then her smoky quartz cabochons speared continuously her sport mentor, a heavy sigh efficiently ejected from her tiny, amenable nostrils and inhaling gently its oxygen through relaxing deep breaths escorting the worry of her front pearly-white teeth grinding its sharp edges to nibble her bottom brim lip. The pause stung significantly awe-inspiring the saloon to halt each kind of sweetly melodious chats and susurrations that were sufficiently audible to keep the ginger and juvenile blonde's wits about the apathetic attitude to the new addition. "The vast stress that I am encountering even as a young person that is part of our world and society with my own responsibilities and duties. Let's not forget that it is not actually a child's play to be living with your brother, who seems to be mildly irresponsible and oblivious to his own duties sometimes, you know!"

"Money talks, bullshit walks, miss!" The haphazardness of the curt scoff snapping the redhead and the juvenile saleswoman drifted their attention to the senior gentleman, whose raspy bicker tingled unhallowed anthems into their ears and obtaining galore of inquisitive grimaces fixated on him for interrupting crudely Madeleine without even bestowing her modicum of respect even if she was much younger than him. Harshly low grunts almost died on the nobodies' tongue tips, yet coherently sheepish and formidable, due to their medley of simmering emotions and feelings at the same time. It could be interpreted as a medley of frosty frustration, mild hostility and baneful nonplus as their dominos immaculately clandestine buried their temper to not haul them too far at all. "Dear young lady, you are overreacting so much that you don't have even an idea what are you even talking about!" Shrugging instinctively his elderly gawky shoulders at the facial expressions twiddled past the young lady and the New Jerseyan's healthily parchment until they unremittingly morbid drained each adequate hue of their natural skin tone tinting their anatomies shortly after eavesdropping the low-spiritedly antagonistic ode of the other protégés of Diana Clara. A bittersweet purse wedged his naturally pale-pinkish, chapped oral slit to alter his stance to antagonistic to Madeleine and manifesting his frustration of her bland oration even if it was also leaning to a brief interview. "For crying out loud! What are you even looking at me, folks? This young lady is solely talking and sounding as if she complains about the life she is looking forward to its adversities!"

"Excuse me, Mister Goldwind!" Suddenly the redhead caught off guard the senior gentleman without even daring to fold her arms to indicate her dim amusement fantastically mingling with her authentic vexation at his sharp comment apt to arrow the novice's declaim. "Nobody has asked you to have your say and having even the audacity to interrupt that dear young lady, because if you have an ounce of decency," In the meanwhile, Diana Clara registered to quirk quizzically an eyebrow at the frustrating stupidity and brashness of one of her protégés without paying no heed to the sharp comment. "It won't fly to have future problems with anybody who thinks otherwise than you."

"I didn't truly mean that, Mrs. Sykes!" Managing a humble bob of his head in fair agreement, throughout the older man readjusted his seating posture on the floor momentarily.

"Don't be sorry! Likewise, Miss Wilson you can get back to your seat and I am cordially grateful for your short introduction!" Then Madeleine dashed back to her seat as the yoga instructor and she maneuvered to roost their rears on the yoga mats. A childlike smug grin decorated Madeleine's unblemished alabaster, young-looking face at the heartwarming words of the New Jerseyan, and folding her legs by shooting a perky glance at the brunette for last time who caught eventually a glimpse of her honey brown abysses followed by a benevolently weak smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Let's get back to our classes. Just take a deep breath!" Throughout the cluster of indomitably unnerving tick of the elapsing seconds, the yoga tutor sharply exhaled, and the whole group unquestionably dutiful followed her instructor. "Good! Now let's start with the first pose you are presumed to do as easy as pie! Just cross your shins, widen your knees," During the modestly dour instruction shortly after the persistent clash of vowels and syllables to formulate its utterance grinding restlessly on the ginger's tongue fat, thereafter she folded her shin, and widened her round knees she has fluently practiced for years, even though her struggles as a beginner in the beginning of her adulthood. Each motion twitching the very muscles of the protégés manifested to not miss any single eminent structure of the pose's basics. "Then just slip each foot beneath the opposite knee as you bend your knees and fold the legs in toward your torso."

\- _A Few Hours Later _-

Once the yoga class bled into the aureate apogee and the protégés modestly pursuing every prominent step to compose their very bodies, souls and minds in the ultimate harmony and heavenly peace undulate their tense muscles like the monumental tempest of waves colliding with the seamlessly gilt sand blanket, thus in an hour the disciples retreated back to the locker rooms to get ready such as taking quick lukewarm showers, take off their practical attires and hop up in more comfy, and last, but not least, preparing their bags or rucksacks with the whole baggage. The female locker room sunk in the ineluctably abysmal briny of chit-chats and goofy whispers as if it bear a semblance of book club, where the gather of horde of nobodies having a magnificently entertaining, enticing day without their families and spending a handful of hours with their best of friends in drinking coffee or tea, besides debating one another fierily about their favorite Literature.

Strangely or not, the brunette's postpone of her very presence to peter out of the site unmistaken glutted the blonde with blizzard of questions, which answers were far cry from tangible. Little did the blonde know the real motives beyond Martha's hindrance to flee the locker room in a jiff. Even after taking a freshly lukewarm shower to nurture its delicate epidermis of her overall leanly fleshy arms and legs paired with her most intimate parts to scrub with an ease effortlessly every ounce of bountiful perspiration, building its pungently sweltering heat on her armpits and face, yet she was embraced by Martha's somber panorama twinkling past her eyesight.

Despite the circumstances and the feud the both young women built, thanks to the opposing factions and Madeleine sticking to team with the Howards and Frank, whereas the brunette traded her indubitably potent bond with her deceased uncle and biological father, there was still a hope to alter the scales' weights and the older lady to redeem herself. The celestially long path to hallowed atonement was far cry from painlessly facile as well. The Howards reckoning the juvenile saleswoman didn't even have any trust in anybody that suddenly switches their factions, and, of course, hurling effortlessly to the opposite side that was once their bloodthirstily unavoidable, vastly detrimental foe with its malicious intentions to riot the ideals, dreams and purposes that were in the boosterish favor of Cayden.

In each case of powerfully inebriating atonement, the trust was among the most resiliently challenging keys that unlocked galore of opportunities for the individuals and their chances to prove themselves as either better, or otherwise worse. The outstandingly one of a kind key that could be a pretty enigmatic dilemma, won with either stark honesty, or on the contrary with perniciously remorseless manipulations and sugarcoated lies. Every inauspiciously tarnished soul had two completely different alternatives to tweak either for better or worse, following the path of the light or otherwise the ethereally eternal darkness, confining them like a wretched child with its own vices that daredevil attempted to refine starkly the unsacred name to impress the others with its own extraordinary luster, even if it wasn't possible.

The vindictively quiet, muffled snivels of the medical student, whose tear-rimmed pools of glassy chocolate brown dispassionately jaded impaled her bare marbled hands as her tear-stained well-sculptured, chubby cheeks refused to zap the beehive of crystal beads draping its profusion unremittingly. Her rear stilled on the wheelchair's seat, and her inexorable melancholia malignantly emboldening her delay to meandering beneath the very walls of the locker room without shadow of a doubt. It haunted her not just for a few days the lethally unimaginable suicide of her uncle just before fulfilling their ultimate liberty from the doctors and nurses' formidable care, besides spending unearthly hours in absorbing their vortex of thoughts grisly in the life outside the hospital's grandiose façade. It was more than a few days the unearthly hair-rising mull of witnessing the true epitome of the demise with her brown gems.

Once each mortal's fragile heart no longer vehemently pounded in their chest and syncing its blood's divinely free spout coursing through the person's veins, besides finding variety of substitutes to end their lives even descending to strangle themselves mindlessly, subsequently their very souls dwelled out of their former homes thoughtlessly swift and roaming the world's corners nervously. Each mortal can't be any longer resuscitated to repair certain scale of mistakes they have crafted through their dynamic roller coaster ride and rewind back in the past for the inkling of their subconscious oblivion dueling their hardships, shrouded with fantastically vast will, in order to engrain its cardinally long road to success.

On the pinewood bench dawdled to handle its extra weight of the medical student's compact bag that could manipulate to persevere to be a temporal home to a couple of items, reckoning neatly folded garments as an inexorable addition. Yet the brunette was unwholesomely filmy unmindful to her recent abutting exemplars, or rather a pseudo-audience that wasn't impassionedly riveted in her desperate muffled snivels accompanying the mere background noises of the fleet symphony of the zips' manipulation, the inward moans and groans, and, last, but not least, the slams of the oak wood door once any kind of an individual's cards were played right.

As soon as the Michiganian put her trainer bra and three-quarter trousers in her back shortly after hopping up in a casual bubblegum pink raglan short-sleeved shirt fully buttoned under her chin, besides hugging her torso coupled with a plain pair of hipster dark denim jeans, denim jacket and eventually bubblegum pink flats shoeing her petite feet, consequently she loosened her high ponytail as her virginally nimble fingers worked on rubber band until it slithered smoothly from her scalp to the back of her skull.

"You weren't even destined to die and leave me to rot against every hardship," In the interim, the older woman's fidgety, delicate fingers reached for her bag's tiniest pocket to rummage for her birthday present. The prominently mere, lovely crystal moonstone pendant nonetheless. The plain pendant with the pearly unique crystal moonstone lingered its graceful composure refrigerated the palm of her cupped hands as if she held the most precious, the most miniature bird that has ever occasionally daredevil perched in her invitingly protective grip. A frosty paroxysm sent chills down her spine at the bewitchingly soul-stirring vista of Martha dearly treasuring her birthday present that has never left her sight and mind every time whenever she just coveted to behold its meaningfully vivid brilliance of what she has never acquired for her birthdays through the years. Of course, a couple of exceptions in her whole life weren't fairly counted as a handful of years' materialistic nirvana her flimsy heart shrouded its perky gilded attires to be her cordial armor! "That has tried to stumble my fragile self! You aren't even aware how desperately lonely am I against the whole world, first and foremost, uncle!" Reciting in a grisly mumble her soliloquy, oblivious to the Michiganian's purely unintentional eavesdrop detecting the older lady's grotesque misery tinting her lilt, Madeleine managed a sharp exhale shortly after putting the elastic band in her bag and re-sat on the pinewood bench, pondering cavernously at the current impressions her train of thoughts reconstructed about the medical student.

Even though Martha couldn't bear any longer the cogitation of residing the crudely cold world all alone against each adversary that had evil-intentioned nature against her will and versatile motives, the heartache over Sebastian's suicide had never dwelled out of her cogitation's abysmally abstract realm at all.

Although it wasn't easy as pie to prevail the severe anguish and never-changing trials, there was still hope to be against the entire world in the toughest times, and still not giving up at all. The awe-inspiringly gigantic world was always full of dynamic roller coasters to be worth its ride, every living being's outstandingly meaningful missions and purposes, besides galore of trials, and advantages to expand their path.

"Madeleine Wilson," The suddenness of the spookily deep, preternatural medley of despondency and deepness saturated medico's bewail unbuckling her strawberry-coloured, dry tongue as her sore throat anguished pleaded for modicum of hydration to not torment her, maneuvering with her only free elvish, marbled hand to control the wheelchair and her puffy smoky quartz gems pursuing for the younger girl's honey brown. Meantime, the blonde flinched at the forlorn bewail, escorting modestly its symptoms of her impulsive reaction, due to the least predictability to detect the nefarious serial killer's daughter accent to saturate remarkably her very presence and the everlastingly steady heart pulses amplifying fiercely at the requiem. Healthily mirthful powder of cerise darkened the blonde's angelically palish, young-looking profile and hopeless glassiness apt to tandem her abysses. "I am strongly afraid to admit that I am no longer keeping in touch with my father even if you don't believe me!"

"Needless to say, I won't believe any single thing that drips from your filthy mouth!" Folding her leanly velvet arms across her chest, the Michiganian's sheer nonchalance fell from her delicate facial features, whilst the medico dawdled to ball in her firm grasp her pearly precious birthday present. The heinously viciousness ornamented promiscuously the juvenile saleswoman's oval profile, whereas knitting her eyebrows to the bridge of her nose and channelizing to incline ironically to gesticulate her absolute unimpressiveness at the unforeseen change Martha took in her hands. "I also spoke to your father sooner than you think and he also confirmed that he is with his tail between his legs once he acknowledged about your uncle's imprisonment in the Vermont State Hospital," Then the Michiganian reciprocated to lull her tongue to lick pensively her upper and lower lip instantaneously for the searing pause enkindling lightly her lingua, whilst her cold-heartedly aloof pools of hazelish-brown examined in a scrutiny the notorious serial killer's daughter physique and her vision taking prominently peculiar notes of her visually like the broadly spread pages of a book, gracing the avid reader with its gloriously beneficial knowledge to the new, undiscovered world and its chasms. "And, of course, when he realized that you were having an affair with your uncle and having his baby!"

"You are actually right!" Registering to bob her head to reaffirm solemnly her reprimand, throughout the older lady's vulnerable nose elaborated its heavy sigh, resembling as if her arrant bewilderment and surreptitious forgetfulness clouded her hurricane of thoughts analyzing the sigh of the young saleswoman's brilliant sanity humping the skeletons out of her closet. "He taught me a lesson, even though I don't care about him anymore!"

"Y-You mean Cayden, right?"

"Exactly! Why are you even mentioning his name?"

The ineffable nausea rose in the bile of the brunette at the very thought of the last time when she has encountered her father and he gifted her with nothing else than sorely afflictive retribution for her betrayal, besides sticking to grace Cayden's deceased brother and the Grays' with a child that downrightly took after Sebastian and his niece's crossbreeding remnants. Every mention of the ill-famed psychopath's name not only boiled Madeleine's blood and rocketing up the unhallowed ache for revenge on him for razing spine-chillingly the lives of hundreds of people, and giving chills to thousand of innocents, but also emboldened Martha to no longer sympathize her father and abide neutral when it comes up to his undeniable atrocities behind the scenes through the gradual development of his evolution. If Martha had to choose between her father and uncle in terms what they have done for her through the years, the answer is far cry from ineffably dim and arcane.

Despite the Michiganian's dim hostility with the medico and hankering her dismal ode, she couldn't instantaneously trust anybody, who had always antagonized her inner circle even for not the most ordinary reasons. The actions, which the medico might prove herself as somebody better than what she used to be, or rather, be donned up in the marionette's ineludible attires of her youthful gullible nature not exactly aiding her to distribute the right and the wrong side, followed by their decisions and their commands grinding on her.

On one hand, the time was the authentically painful medicine to heal the wounds of low-spirits, lies, heartbreaks and jotting down mindlessly as mental notes to aware its preys of their mistakes. It syringed its remnants of hopelessness and harsh asperity unendingly and gathering in its hypo the gory marsh.

On other hand, the actions could unavoidably unproblematic take care of the heavily injured preys of the sugarcoated lies, heartaches and solid misery, and overwhelm them with tormenting death for ruining the lives of more than thousands of people eventually.

"Well, I thought you wouldn't be offended somebody calling your father a turd for example!"

"That really suits him! You are an expert in keeping an eye peeled on such monsters like him!"

"Is that another lie to win me and then turn a blind eye on anything I am trying with my allies to give him an earful?" Raw flippancy plashed dauntlessly abrupt the younger lady's posed question, replete with playful derision and monstrously subtle crossness, meanwhile, her caramel brown moons flicked up to admire the formidably abstract a handful of posters hanging on the walls of the female locker room, and elaborating its process of licking greedily her naturally roseate, angelically cherub lips. "Look what, Martha! I am not some kind of a detector lie test, you are forcing me to do it nonetheless." Salty lump seethed the older woman's throat and her fleshy throat muscles struggling to conjugate its quaffing, whereas Madeleine's caramel brown moons impaled Martha's unhealthy pallid, tear-stained complexion in a grotesquely fiendish glare as she crouched down to maintain an adequate eye contact stabilizing the rusty reins of their gazes. "But once you are no longer with your father, you perfectly know that nobody is going to believe or help you. You did to yourself to lose allies and you also can't get away with falsely accusing an ex-priest for touching you and so forth!"

"I am not all alone!"

"Just prove it to me that you aren't fucking alone!"

"I swear," Fashioning wrathfully into balled fists her pixie-like hands, thus the blonde's oral slit formed a spitefully wry, broad smirk plastered in the corner of her lip and wearing thousand patterns of wryness, tinting her growl's timbre and the healthily refreshing hues of her face. The harsh growl, sheathed in its fiery impulse to bicker Madeleine's very conscience to grind on her tongue tip effortlessly tingled unhallowed fiendish hymns and inner voices' assault in the medico's vortex of thoughts vigorous whirl. "Just listen to me for once! It won't cost you less than a minute to hear out my straight explanation and keep your hair on." The suddenness of the medico fueling her fantastical nonchalance to plaster on her femininely beautiful facial attributes and saturating her sharp bicker to halt the blonde's spiteful attitude pelting her rapidly rabid, subsequently her frail heart no longer importuned her to fairly forge its series of uncontrollable sobs, and her fingertips reached to daub softly the salty beads decorating her cheeks.

"Okay, okay, okay! Nobody is forcing you to stop!" Afterwards the Michiganian fashioned to straighten her posture and spread her petite, marbled hands cynically in the thin air.

"I reunited with my older brother whom I have never got the chance to meet him in person. My older cousin was the last family member I have made a reunion like when we were quite young."

"Except for your father and uncle, right?"

"Exactly!" Suddenly the juvenile saleswoman couldn't stifle an infectiously inarticulate, blatant giggle her rosy-coloured, plumpish lips bleated bluntly once the brunette managed a humble nod in strong agreement until she didn't roll her coffee brown optics at the prospect of her foe's blunt expression responding to her revelation. "What makes you to laugh your head off?"

"Oh God! Hopefully I am not heavily dreaming!" Registering to readjust her T-shirt's perky hem as her brittle fingertips snatched the heavenly smooth fabric brushing against the pads of her bony fingers the young saleswoman chaotically hysterical couldn't even command an austere control over her guttural, jovial guffaw piercing the site's walls. Sheer forgetfulness fogged Madeleine's mind and having little to no sober control over her dexterous glee's phenomenal demonstration. "Just a wee reminder to saturate your attention like a bat out of hell, Martha!" Inching the brunette's parchment, freshly youthful profile shortly after meagerly maintaining its innocuous intimate proximity of their facial fleshes, consequently Madeleine's warm breath faintly breezed and authentically blending its monotonously incessant blink of their eyelids. "If you are aiming to win somebody on your side like me, Timothy or even Jude, therefore just forget about it! You don't have a chance with people you solemnly lied to once, so you don't have to lie to the same people multiple times. It is just end of story, isn't it?" All of a sudden, the blonde retreated to retrieve her sport bag and adjusting appropriately its strap on her shoulder blade as her bony fingers worked on stabilizing the soft fabric's balance on her shoulder, stilling her honey brown big, round optics.

"Y-Yes!"

"Excellent!" In the meanwhile, the juvenile saleswoman manifested to march towards the door, darting a lethally final glimpse at the infamous serial killer's daughter seconds before camouflaging herself out of her sight.

\- _Later That Day_ -

Once the mid-April's day bled into the nocturnal twilight with the full, roundish ghostly pale moon mounting up the starless horizon and dim luminosity tinting the ebony sky, the medico preferred to stay tonight in the company of her older brother in his flat he shared with his slightly younger girlfriend. Just shortly after the yoga classes, thereafter the medico has decided to have revenge on her father for the severe opprobrium she had stoically endured the whole physical and mental torture.

Even though the young woman has almost never had even modicum of control over her inevitably vengeful anger pulsating into her body and drastically gearing the atoms' megawatt speed acceleration's function, matching with her adrenaline, her short-tempered persona didn't fail her to construct with the electrician a vindictively noisome scheme against the infamously bloodthirsty, blood-curdling psychopath. It took them no more than a handful of minutes to connect on the phone with one of the best brands that vend its extraordinarily mouth-watering wine in Hartford and ordering it for the Italian compatriot's desolated property.

As soon as the Italian compatriot took a refreshingly hot shower to fertilize its glossiness peeling off its filth and scum clinging to his overall epidermis of his arms and legs, afterwards he dashed to the front door, and crystalline nonplus blending its great bewilderment glittered starkly vivid in his cinnamon brown abysses eventually. Little did he know who had dropped out the bottle of high quality French red liquor on the porch as well. Galore of speculations vividly invaded his train of thoughts to elaborate its vague conspiracy theories behind the cryptic ordered wine he has at least expected to behold just shortly after taking a shower.

First and foremost, the first speculation leaned to emulate to an utter mistake along the anonymity of the sender except the recipient's full name and address of its property's official location. The second conspiracy theory hyperbolized heavily as if it is a present or otherwise just a woeful hoax. The more the middle-aged gentleman dipped in the misty ocean of his childlike inquisitiveness to question the bottle of scrumptious red liquor, more the answers he was eagerly looking for unceasingly obscured their disappearance in the limbo.

In a long minute of fluctuation, the obdurate resolution urged him to bring the entity inside his two-story house and popped up its wooden cork with an ease to pour its promisingly inviting, intoxicatingly scrumptious liquor in an empty, unused goblet. Settled comfortable on top of the kitchen table shortly after his masculinely meaty, strong fingers deftly manipulated to cork its entrance, subsequently the haphazardness of the retro phone's humdrum peal caught off guard Cayden momentarily.

Crooking his meaty, nimble fingers to stabilize its firm grapple of the goblet, the flock of short footsteps ghostwriting the kitchen floor in mellifluously dull, arduous murmurs tingled its own tiresome ballad into Cayden's ears on his mission to grab with his only free hand the earpiece, and ultimately clinging it to the shell of his amenable ear.

"Hello?" In the interim, the middle-aged gentleman's fingers maneuvered the glass of French wine to hardly inch his oral slit, whereas his naturally pale-pinkish, brim lips wrapped around the rim of the glass and gulped a few tiny sips gamely. Little did he know who was phoning him in the middle of the night eventually and scarcely possessing even modicum of piece of evidence to detect the other nobody, who is the one that caught him out of the blue in the most leisure moment. "Who is calling?" A wickedly feminine, peculiarly godless snicker bleated in the thin air, far cry from foreign to the Italian compatriot's eardrums, sharp instincts and indubitably headstrong intuition to detect even his traitors' crude slyness behind the scenes of the schemes. "Martha?"

"What do you think you psychotic old bastard? Do you think you are missing the boat for atonement?"

"What is all this?"

"You like it very much. Don't you?" Mewling its desperately blatant, ruthless slurps of stark hedonism saturating the older man's gulped sips of the mouth-watering liquor sweetening inebriating his tongue tip promptly, meantime, another sweet purr of bone-chillingly unholy, girlish giggle bubbled up from the medical student's throat to share a phone conversation with her father out of the blue.

"You aren't even sounding like Martha at all. I completely doubt you are honestly about to leave a bad taste in my mouth."

"So as I am the one, who is aiming to leave a bad taste in your mouth," At the moment, the grave pensiveness the medical student stubbornly simmered her blizzard of thoughts, a rueful gasp escaped her pink mouth and managing to roll her eyes at her father's diabolical incredulity puncturing his utterance. She didn't resist the urge to wedge her mouth in a dramatically soar purse. "Be excessively careful what are you wishing for to pelt down your balding scalp!"

"Are you actually trying to take after that dumb blonde's tremendous arrogance, aren't you?"

"You don't have the right to ask me that question. I have always refrained to take position in your heavy atrocities you have done not only to the others, but also soiling my name and reputation."

"Listen here, you little twat!" Relentlessly fierce pause stung the notorious serial killer's chapped oral slit, raw stringency emphasized his reprimand, whilst taking a docilely hedonistic sip at his glass of wine. "Who do you think you are about to fool with your ineffably immense arrogance I have never even presumed to encounter once in my damn life? Are you about to team with those dummies that had ruined a few times my life at least?"

"Shu, shu, shu, fool! Watch out for your glass of wine to not ferment at all!"

"There is nothing wrong with the wine, Martha!" The abruptness of crafting its thickness coating remorselessly his Adam apple, therefore the Italian compatriot muffled its choke shortly after slamming the goblet on the counter and wrapping his meaty, parchment fingers circa his throat to pay full heed to the impending sequence if his throat muscles couldn't adequately swig its lump at all. All of a sudden, a villainously huge, eerie grin embellished the medico's rosy-coloured, brim lips. "I have actually to mull that there is specifically wrong with your chaotically foul, diabolical mind! I doubt how you haven't dared to visit a professional to solve your anger management. "

"I have only one thing to say, if you doubt my character yet!" Suddenly, the infamous psychopath's eyelids broadly wrenched at the panorama of the artificially scintillating aureate lights impaling sorely its tender muscles, seconds before blacking out and the last thing he beheld before the senselessness spine-chillingly consoling coma was the golden lights. "Go to hell for not only ruining my life, but also the others that are being through a heavy trauma, just because of you! I hope you rot in hell." Loosening its grip circa the compact entity and the earpiece, consequently Cayden's motionless body flumped backward as its prominently uncharitable noise pitched the earpiece.

**Author's Note: I'm candidly apologizing for not updating this story for almost a month, howsoever, I struggled with an author's block, besides opting to sort my mind to structure every chapter's exact storyline as well.**

**Do you think there's a possible redemption of Martha Gray to no longer obtain any sort of abhorrence from Madeleine and her allies? **

_**Are you more team Madeleine or team Martha? Why, tho?**_

**Do you think the Howards and Madeleine can candidly trust Lana? Is Lana worth even modicum of trust? **

**I frankly hope you liked and enjoyed this chapter, besides for your tremendous patience! Don't forget to leave a straightforward feedback so that your voice to be audible! **


	37. Atonement Costs A Lot

**Previously on Wings of Light:**

"You don't need to thank me whenever I'm just saving your time and woes as well! I'm not some kind of a cloth hanger, however, I just enjoy helping the loved ones that don't deserve even to waste modicum of their energy and time for something even if they are in no hurry."

"Yar kindness never fails to astonish me!"

"Furthermore, we are having a new fantastic addition to our group which is always a brilliantly unique opportunity to expand our family! Let me introduce that young lady on the teal mat to you! It's so good to see you, miss! What is your name?"

"It's sincerely great to hear that you are coming from somewhere else than to be a native Vermontian, dear young lady! Just for the record that you are already welcome in our big and vastly special family! Just a question before the end of our wee interview that is watchable by fifteen people at least!"

"You weren't even destined to die and leave me to rot against every hardship...that has tried to stumble my fragile self! You aren't even aware how desperately lonely am I against the whole world, first and foremost, uncle!"

"Madeleine Wilson, I am strongly afraid to admit that I am no longer keeping in touch with my father even if you don't believe me!"

"You aren't even sounding like Martha at all. I completely doubt you are honestly about to leave a bad taste in my mouth."

So as I am the one, who is aiming to leave a bad taste in your mouth...bBe excessively careful what are you wishing for to pelt down your balding scalp!"

"I hope you are witnessing the judgmental demons that are chasing you down after ruining opulence of preciously innocuous lives with your pathetic motives. They know much better than you who are much eviler." The austere hoarseness of the medico's bawl, hysterically fiddling her nude pink brim lips foaming her harsh abhorrence of her biological father's infamous atrocities that were shrouded in fame, harvesting its huge mass of an audience to express their massive disgust every time whenever the television or the radio journalists along the front page of the newspapers embroidered the Italian compatriot's very name. Cherry blush mischievously thwacked the medico's healthily plump cheeks and crimsoning every ounce of her natural complexion's tone like the heavy rain pelting down in a chilly autumn night and slugging the gradually dilapidating wall plaster through the advancing time and the very absence of professional construction workers to revamp the patchy blemishes. "I am just even ashamed to mention your name, no matter if it is Cayden or my father. You are just an absolute nobody to me."

A crude grimace twiddled swiftly across Martha's young-looking alabaster façade, whilst her older brother, Andy managed to venture up in the living room as his larger frame reclined lenient on the wooden door frame. The starkly buoyant smile bloomed beyond his charmingly young-looking facial features as if the divinely glorious conceit magnified the humbleness that once embellished nonchalantly his oval profile until his very presence contacted his sister's chocolate brown roundish chasms.

The authentically gigantic silhouettes, twice the siblings' figures and mirroring their postures, the terrifying tinge of smoggy swarthiness tinted their backs' satellites and manipulating the gravely sheer eeriness imbuing their real vibes, fueling the ambience. Nothing could destroy their shadows' arrantly authentic vibes they imbued to shepherd each step, leading to their imminent destinations and recent residence, where their very presences were the outstanding protagonists for the different stories they might conjugate through their conversations and body language.

The seraphic nirvana and gargantuan pride enshrouded the older gentleman's flimsy heart, and the fierily jubilant heart pulses whamming in his toned ribcage. The spirituous paradise grew the divinely gilt wings of the pride and eagerly flapping them, charging the gradual exultation of the electrician to behold his younger sister stronger than ever. Her poetic chocolate brown bijous humped the Herculean particle of hellish ill will, utterly illuming the true nature of the medical student's adrenaline rapid amplification pulsating into her frail skeleton and leniently throbbing against her tender epidermis. It truly spoke volumes about her intentions and facial expression's abrupt anomalies in the tense timeline of a few minutes, once her verbal interaction with Cayden on the phone advanced the megawatt duress assaulting him with galore of questions about his daughter's change that couldn't be simply reciprocated.

"It seems somebody stabbed someone in the back." Once the assertively raspy slam of the handset to the rotary phone stung the living room's very walls, the compound of the short-lived noise and the older man's eloquent whistle caressed Martha's petite, vulnerable ears that composed the outstanding duet. The medical student's cinnamon brown gorges gamely examined in a scrutiny her older brother's physique from head to toes for a split-second until her piercing gaze arrantly cold-blooded embedded in his dimly tanned complexion.

"Well, he always picks the fight and adds fuel to the fire, Andy!" Reclining lightheartedly her back against the wheelchair's backrest as the strangely convenient fabric of the furniture served her its unreserved comfort, thus her marbled bony fingers knitted together as her elbows perched on the armrests. The inhumane gratification scribbled past her femininely beautiful facial attributes decipherable enough like broadly spread pages of a book and leaking the unceasing caverns of its conundrum. "What do you expect from somebody that puts his twisted desires before the family?"

"I really understand your point that it is tremendously humiliating to be reared in a family, where either of your parents is one of the most infamous psychopaths not only in the whole city," Meanwhile, the electrician's frail fingertips thrummed gingerly against the wooden door frame whilst his only free colossal, veiny hand's fingers managed to reach for his bushy scalp to scrape gently the short mop of his dark strands plastered on his head as his smartly trimmed fingernails chafed. His recent condition was a bare indication of something mystically unexplainable. He didn't know well his father as much as his younger sister does for example. They were siblings, who had lived in completely different worlds and universes with myriad of superlative priorities, purposes and dreams to chase down like gravely frantic wolves during a full moon night. They have ridden two different roller coasters, articulating the dynamicity of their versatile trials and hopes. "But also in the whole state. Anyway I haven't spent twenty years to study his persona at least. You know him much better than I do, Martha!"

"I know what a pain in the neck is spending twenty years by doing absolutely nothing about your father's crimes except paying no heed to the gruesome details of his atrocities." The suddenness of the young woman's elbows slackening to poise her elvish hands to drift to her wheelchair's wheels and channelize its ultimate control to forge ahead her older brother without her gawk slithers somewhere else to rekindle. "Moreover, thanks to him, I brought myself humongous trouble without shadow of a doubt."

"You were much younger than now as the wisdom outweighs your gullibility with every advancing year of your life, Martha." Once the siblings' proximity maintenance couldn't be approximated more than a handful of inches and abrading the magnificently potent tension of their eye contact, a salty lump collared the juvenile medical student's feminine Adam apple as her trembling spidery fingers twiddled absentmindedly the steel wheels' iciness steeped her bare flesh of her tissues. "I despise contemplating through that thin veil of your unconditional self-hatred and undeserved punishment by the pangs of your conscience, gnawing you like a stock of rats. It makes me extremely uncomfortable to watch my poor, younger sister like that." Andy's flimsy heart berserkly wept beneath his rib cage, whereas the slyness of the swan curve of his smirk no longer supported the broadness and unremittingly compressing a ruefully benevolent smile, permeating across his rosaceous lips. It viciously clenched promptly at the severe trials his younger sister had ever confronted earlier in her entire life, besides her recent condition emulating to a sorely afflictive retribution awarding her with physical disability to freely move like the galore of nobodies.

"Sometimes I don't even know any longer what the hell is going on with me and my life as I still question why did not I rebel earlier."

"You don't always know if your decision is actually the right thing you are leaning to accomplish unless you discover the positives and the negatives, including the absolute aftermaths," At the moment, the brunette maneuvered her bony fingers to weakly accelerate her wheelchair's speed as if the promisingly delicate summer breeze's ginger touch emboldened the feather to twitch. Her imminent destination was definitely the kitchen, where the electrician's very presence emanated and his stare chase down his disabled sibling nearing the pine wood kitchen table until protracting one of her elvish alabaster hands to yank an empty glass and subsequently retiring to the kitchen sink apt to cusp the counters. "Subconsciously. Mindly. Cordially. Spiritually. Every kind has its own best version they are leaning to be the possible truth, even though the truth is always in the middle."

"You have every right to say that we have our own different versions like our very souls, consciences, minds and hearts as they assimilate everything that surrounds us differently." The insurmountably stodgy chanson of the running jet water pounced ferociously Martha and Andy's ears once the kitchen sink's faucet was twisted at the deft grasp of her only free hand's arachnoid fingers worked on the steel water tap. The course of the freshly lukewarm translucent liquid pooling the rim of the glass no longer meekly escorted the very tunes of the repetitive jet water's torrent like the boldly overwrought moans of the bells. "There are always different nuances that tint your life, depending on your decisions. They strongly affect you in every kind of way." Seconds later, her pools of profoundly vibrant caramel brown contacted the electrician's gracefully tanned frontage and catching a fleet glimpse of his meticulous scintilla glutted his handsome facial attributes. Every time whenever the protagonists in the prospect took turns to exchange with one another their revelations and it wasn't the young gentleman's turn to convulse his brim mouth to peel the rigid layer of the high stony mountains that towered certain listeners' imaginations, his politeness halted curtly his process of pouring up anything that crossed the barrens of thoughts momentarily and honing his ears.

"Physically and mentally."

"Exactly!" Suddenly, the infamous serial killer's daughter registered to swig docilely a mouthful of refreshingly tiny sips to hydrate her berry-coloured tongue and oral caverns.

\- A Few Hours Later or So -

A handful of hours flew in the pace of a weightless feather, efficiently forceful waltzing in the thin air shortly after the haughtily emboldening spring breeze invigorated in the form of a gentle punch in the gut.

The habitual serenity never ceased to anesthetize the Howards' two-story mansion spaces that were either deprived of living being's presence to strangle the physical contact with the rich variety of furniture embroidered prominently on the canvas. The straightforwardly warmish climate that commonly perforated each room of the two-story mansion pebbled the bare epidermis of the nuclear family's parchment complexions along their fists.

The desperately gleeful ballad of the common night the nuclear family hasn't vanished like the vaguely mellifluous manipulation of the subtle guitar stings' fiddle shortly after bedaubing softly a couple of fingertips to elaborate the very tunes to distract the ponderously uncomfortable silence. The frequent gathers on the kitchen table whether for breakfast, lunch, dinner and mini snacks between the meals always smoothly seamless stitched the kitchen's harmonic atmosphere along the former members of the church's preternaturally nirvanic serenity mantling the patchy dominos of their pasts and bitterness the months and weeks prior. Even if a family assembly endured less than a couple of minutes, yet there was nothing to replace the unconditional coziness and heartwarming harmony, settling conveniently inside the property like an uninvited ghost of the kismet.

At the moment, Jude and Timothy's presences populated the living room, whereas Edward Ralph was already swaddled warmly in his bassinet shortly after his amenably petite ears avidly absorbed in the alleviatingly serene tunes of his mother's lullaby which her rosy-coloured lips squeezed to elaborate. Furthermore, the kitten, Stephen was recently drifted off asleep whilst curling up in a tiny ball on the British aristocrat's lap and his exuberant hedonism amalgamating his sheer comfort as he has accommodated slowly but surely with his owners' ambiance and benevolent intentions, stretched the dimly sympathetic smile at the corner of his snout.

The lonely ode of the piano keys' dexterous play stitched seamlessly the living room and accompanying the muted television, due to the lacking intriguing content it offered to the wed couple except providing them with the incessantly vivid flashing images of the protagonists that participated on the television programs like the breaking news, old Hollywood movies and soap operas. It wasn't for everybody to lend an ear attentively the regular dose of shenanigans whether the television journalists or their guests have produced for their recent shows. It wasn't everybody's cup of tea to spend a handful of minutes in front of the detrimentally scintillating screen that linked their connection to pierce their depths to scan each flicker and motion of the discreet details technically and mechanically.

Miraculously, the sheer creativity of the wed couple didn't fail to unremittingly drain their elapsing time at uneasy pace. The masculinely meaty, nevertheless, silken fingers of the former devotional man of the cloth worked gingerly on the charcoal gray kitten's head as his fingertips softly glided to admire his tiny bone structure along the purely indulging fur's brittle harvest. No wonder why the former child of the stray and relentless wild lifestyle no longer could worry about its very existence once he found his own family in the middle of a fiercely frigid February night. He wasn't all alone like some of his compatriots to inhabit the deepest corners of the woods and the countryside, joining the general untamed population.

The domestic ambience was no longer the unfriendly and icily intimidating chasm where the adopted pet sensed the stark neutrality to send the gruelingly unwavering chills down his spine. That was his contemporary and only home as a four-month-old cat, whose life eased once his destiny wasn't roving aimlessly and struggling to survive all alone.

In the meantime, the former pious holy woman's bony alabaster fingers gingerly dawdled on the multiple piano keys, in order to rehearse the music tones peculiarly and suffocating the numbing doldrum that settled comfy in the space. A handful of slim fingers maneuvered to contact heedfully three piano keys and indubitably obdurate attempting to match the dulcet ditty, escorting docilely the middle-aged lady's melodiously low hum floating her throat. Sloppily lenient smiles sprawled across the pairing' pink oral slits.

"You have been on this piano since the news is on the television." The haphazardness of the hoarsely teasing younger gentleman's chuckle decorously conducted his mockery retaliating his wife's recent activity, utterly accenting the piano that was lastly touched a couple of days prior, tingled mischievous alarming tones in the middle-aged woman's petite vulnerable ears. The mischievous irony which authentically jubilant timbre tinged the British compatriot's whisper, draping his other muscular arm leniently to perch on top of the sofa's back pillow.

"Is that a criticism or something else?" Then, a wretchedly nauseous spate momentarily danced in the pit of Jude's frail abdomen, whereas the severely rusty calcification of her heart shrouded neatly in brass silver steel mirrored the clumsily sluggish pulses in her rib cage somehow defined smartly her facial features, twisting the brash stoicism at swift pace.

"I don't have anything against it." Flicking up his cinnamon brown minerals, landing on the scintillating television screen images which drastically sore impaled Timothy's gaze amalgamating the artificial aureate light filtering the whole site, meantime, he manipulated to maintain his stable eye contact with his wife, during their colloquy. "I am just stating a fact." Ushering to incline frolicsome an eyebrow to whet his sheer serenity, the older lady managed to clear her throat as she muffled the cold-bloodedly dry cough with the palm of her pixie-like hand deftly, whereas her throat reciprocated to the bob sharply. It seemed that the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's feminine Adam apple no longer deposited the barren thickness, webbing her tender fleshy throat armor.

"Ya seem to enjoy pretty much watching me playing the piano."

"Needless to say, that you are incredibly talented!"

"I am fairly flattered that you like watching me playing the piano."

"I am still questioning why you didn't become some kind of artist." Wearing a thousand patterns of vibrant optimism, crinkling his playful dimples and broadening hysterically hasty the meek smile embellishing his silken pale-pinkish lips, opulence of questions emulating to childlike inquisitiveness assaulted the British aristocrat's blizzard of thoughts. Contemplating through the majestically classy vista of his rara avis perching on the piano stool and bedaubing a couple of fingertips to elaborate the tuneful noises, brightly contrasted to the lethally chthonic hush.

"Well, I used to be just a pathetic singer in those negligent bars," Channelizing to dart her playful strawberry-coloured tongue to lick gamely her upper and lower lip momentarily, her big honey brown roundish gorges swiftly meandered through the trance to bore in the former clergyman's physique from head to toes. The brutal honesty of her grotesque revelation stumbling to curl her bottom plumpish drenched lip whilst the opulence of vowels and syllables formulated the beginning of her monologue. "I didn't get much salary for what I was doing and what I did. Just filthy, meager money that were enough for the rueful rent and puny food." The suddenness of the Bostonian's delicately spidery fingers averted from the once pressed piano keys and currently attentive toying the black keys, dimly sidetracked Judy whilst her gaze sluggishly mindless landed on the carpeted floor.

"I mean. Not only singing and dancing, you know!" In the interval, Timothy's front ivory teeth nibbled his bottom plump lip subconsciously sluggish, whereas maneuvering his frail fingertips to stroke softly Stephen's fluffy grayish head and snaking down the nape of his neck. Then, he lugged the weightlessly motionless body of the kitten and settling it gently on top of the sofa whilst shuffling rapidly his feet after spending more than a quarter an hour bestowing their foster pet with hedonism and coziness. "But also being hired to play any kind of a musical instrument you solemnly believe you can excellently play without shadow of a doubt."

"I have never tried to play anything as a musical instrument in my life." The starkly straightforward revelation articulated her iron stoicism, reinforcing her femininely enchanting facial attributes, melding the artificial aureate light imbuing the very nuances of her facial expression and light crinkle of her lower eyelids along light-heavy wrinkles. Yet her fragile heart ruptured on hundreds of relentlessly glassy fragments at the thought of her grim past and her missed opportunity to experiment with something than being the lead vocalist of her former jazz band, where her membership played a prominent part of the arranged nocturnal schedules.

"At least, it is never too late to try, because the life is too short to claim that it is not your cup of tea without trying once." All of a sudden, the former aspiring Monsignor bolted to his wife in series of graciously perky footsteps, ghostwriting the carpeted floor. Once their intimate distance sealed the deficient gap they traded one another as strong fingers snaked to grapple gingerly her scapulas and gliding his velvety fingertips admiring the impeccably smooth epidermis of her shoulders along the pristine sable nightgown's straps. The pleasant sultriness scorched his British lilt and subsequently foaming emphatically his murmur. "You never know what it could be your cup of tea without even daring to dip your finger in the mist rivulet." Nimbly cautious stroke grazing the ineludibly luxurious yield of goosebumps beneath his frail fingertips, the older lady cocked back her head and arching her satin neck at the breathtakingly enticing touch that sent her frigidly hedonistic shivers down her spine. The friendly reminder of the elephantine spasm, paralyzing remorselessly her bones and muscles, conveyed the murderous warmness to shroud the former woman of the cloth's heart.

"I have to admit that I have never got the chance to take piano classes and my razor-edged intuition tries to chime me, which piano key is going to match the music's mellifluous melody."

At the moment, the British compatriot leaned down as he manipulated his baby pinkish silken lips lusciously to perch on the former nun's marbled expanse, commencing the course of peppering it with series of irresistibly sensual, wet kisses mapping her milky flesh. It felt like an ultimately anesthetic paradise, filling the miniature gaps unceasingly unremitting of the searing passion, desire, and love. The subconscious maneuver of the former licentious nightclub singer's elvish hand to claw gently her partner's jaw, consequently her naturally roseate chapped lips twitched to conjugate a breathy moan as her digits and fingertips supported solidly their intimate space.

"That is damn hot." Huskiness scorched fierily the middle-aged lady's sensual whisper, almost dying on her tongue tip whilst ushering to stroke softly her partner's seamlessly smooth jaw which was clean-shaved to be sensed underneath her finger ends. "My goodness, honey!"

"It is splendid to behold you being under my spell." Continuing the course of technically nipping at her delicate milky expanse's skin and then suckling it, dumping a translucently crystal rivulet of saliva to mark his own territory of the ferociously insatiable act.

"That is candidly sweet to hear it from a strong man." Constricting her eyelids as the wildly steamy neck kisses no longer emulated to the Bostonian's purely solid patience to linger her hazelish-brown orbs transfixed aimlessly on the cellar, bearing a semblance of the prospect of a corpse, dumped with its glassy gawk imbibing recklessly the nearby space it received. A smugly seductive smirk sluggishly burnished Judy's mouth whilst utterly dedicating herself to the savagely invincible kisses that mapped her pumice neck.

"The strong men always know what they are up to instead of just contemplating through the small bubble of their heavenly reverie."

"What kind of strong men do ya particularly mean?" The haphazardness of the nimble manipulation of the blonde lifting up her rear from the piano stool once he retreated his unblemished winsomely wet lips from his partner's erogenous zone momentarily, didn't startle her at all. A coldly frustrated groan plucked forcefully her luscious roseate oral slit. The former devotional holy woman readjusted her standstill posture, whereas her hazelish-brown cabochons stilled their barbarically honest, magnetic ogle that boozed stubbornly her husband's. Yet it possessed the mystical magnetism of the Succubus, herself. Her gruesomely alluring gaze drained inhumanely diabolic each natural hue of Timothy's porcelain façade if her pure anger vibrated in her body and surged through her very veins. "Physically?" Meanwhile, the younger gentleman's mammoth parchment hand pawed gently his partner's smaller abruptly and retrieving it in his unavoidably reassuring grasp.

"Mingled together. Physically and mentally." A quietly tuneful hum flexed Bostonian's delicate jaw whilst lingering her Herculean grin, plastered sloppily on her alabaster face as she scanned in the corner of her eye every blink and faint motion that the former ambitious Monsignor reciprocated to his sheer instincts. "They can protect their rare birds anytime once they are put in jeopardy and combined with their physical and mental stamina. That is why you don't owe any ounce of trust to the weak men." Masculinely deft fingertips managed to rub on circles the former licentious jazz nightclub singer's rigid knuckles, following the meek bitter lump's erection, contouring her feminine Adam's apple. Her perkily attentive caramel brown depths drifted to escort fleetly the fingertips' repetitious motion. The lump's bitter flavor infectiously singed her tongue tip, pondering profoundly behind the context of her husband's meaningfully rational words that spoke volumes about her nature. "Look what! I used to be weak and I developed gradually into something much different from before, so that to escape from the pangs of conscience."

"You were never weak. Ya have always abided strong." Overwhelmed with her husband's starkly frosty pessimism, paralyzing her gaze which fiercely impaled his warm brown jewels, consequently her throat emboldened to flex at bobbing the soar lump, encumbering with its ethereally timeless and uncomfortable thickness her feminine Adam's apple. They were sufficiently uncomfortable to be savored and participating boldly to coat her tender neck's muscles, during her docile silence. Their thickness ultimately emulated to the spider webs of a godforsaken façade for years. "Regardless of the circumstances. Every strong one of a kind isn't whining at the top of their lungs about their hardships. Yar far cry from self-absorbed, even though you were blinded which wasn't your fault."

A minute of hush sealed the meager gap of intimate distance the wed couple exchanged with each other whilst perusing each other's outstanding facial attributes and the gracious warmth of their extraordinary grins along ogles. The tension could fleetly scheme to execute their pearly precious relationship and very bond they have built through the advancing years like the bricks of a building of their mesmerizing love, but it wasn't capable of something else. Something else was such a controversial word to sketch the real notion of the true and one of a kind love that engulfed Jude and Timothy like helpless little birds in love in a small bubble of their world. Their nest which was their home and their cozily promising and safe paradise, isolating them from the other part of the world.

Nobody was capable of depriving them of the most precious and the unique thing, or rather a feeling. The love. Once hexed, twice staggered.

"I was wondering if you don't mind playing the piano together." Capturing her demandingly rose-coloured lips in a hardening kiss as he lingered his creamy fingertips to work on the rigidly satin knuckles' flesh, they rigorously molted in the kiss. Meantime, their hearts raced at their romantically breathtaking intimacy and contact they shared with one another.

"Sure!" Channelizing to bob her head in solemn agreement, due to the sympathetically fascinating idea to play the musical instrument and conjugate an extraordinarily euphonious music, grew the hoary wings of the lethargy, subsequently eagerly flapping them to dwell out of its once temporal home. Or rather, a nest of her opulent swarm of emotions and feelings. "I am very fond of yar idea as well."

Then, Timothy sat on the stool as the former religious sister of the church perched on top of him and readjusting their seating posture unlike their fingers slithering categorically on the diversity of piano keys. Darting their cautious stares to their target object and exchanging nimbly cheerful glimpses for a split second with beaming smiles tugging at the corner of their mouths.

Their monumental sable silhouettes humbly reflected their very realistic figures like pure contrast between the dark shadows of every living being and God's humanoid terrific creations. The first was just a plain mirror image that belonged to its owner and wobbling with them once they were up altering their locations. They were part of their characters, regardless if it were their depth of the caverns or the external core that struck everybody with their initial fascinating impressions. Unlike their tenderly fleshy apparels overally swathing their rich bone structure from head to toes, which rather reflected each living being's physique to strike the occasional audience that might find enthusiasm in keeping in touch until their keenness, benevolence and frankness commingled fantastic.

The living room became the simon-pure sanctuary of the nocturnal ballad of the partners' avidness reciprocated to pour their very hearts and souls in their warily, but perfect piano mirthful melody.

Unalloyed flout to the television screen's recent incessantly flashing images of the vespertine breaking news fogged the twosome, in fact, they were a far cry from tenuously engrossed in playing the piano together and composing modicum of impressive music. The striking disparity of the both realms of the television's broadcast of events occurring whether in Vermont or the other part of the country and the absolute reality fused at the site. Incredibly amusing was the circumstance how the screen wasn't evolving the Howards' attention at all. They were rather engulfed in the miniature bubble of their willingness to compose their music. Whatever their very souls and hearts solemnly felt to nourish themselves.

\- Ten Days Later -

\- 28th of April, 1966 -

Approximately three weeks after the unspeakably tragic suicide of the middle-aged gentleman, who appeared to be Cayden's older, unwed brother, yet Martha couldn't utterly find peace with herself. Three weeks were sufficient to gradually soar up the ineludibly intensifying agony and misery of the young woman, who pearly cherished and loved with every ounce of her being her deceased uncle.

On one hand, once Martha and Andy acknowledged their father's hospitalization ten days prior, they were ineluctably bestowed with childlike exhilaration as the lupine pulses surged through their fleshy muscles. On other hand, the platonic pairing haven't beheld the infamous serial killer, despite their presuppositions was a grave contrary to scarcely collect sufficient information about his current deeds and the massively intricate development of the events he constructed. Perhaps their luck outsmarted them or on the contrary they weren't fortunate enough to be destined to clash with the woes, deriving of their psychotic one of a kind.

Yet her gargantuan melancholia insurmountably consumed each ounce of her very being, even when her uncle was still alive. But it wasn't as ineludibly megawatt the pressure as much as nowadays. The brunette could be still desperate for serving her father and meekly following his wing since her birth, being starkly forgetful of his noxiously indefinable crimes. Pangs of conscience slashed vehemently invincible her gilt wings of her very self-esteem as it petered out palpitating through her frail skeleton. She resembled a severely wounded eagle which was eagerly aiming to its celestially unique, heartwarming liberty from everything that obdurately hampered her way and will.

Moreover, the cemetery as a destination to revere Sebastian's demise, didn't hurt at all, in fact, it was a handful of streets away from Andy's flat. It was like a brief stroll to the most unavoidably joyless site in the city, or rather, to revere the demises of the former mortals by exchanging with the other visitants small talks about their deceased beloved relatives and how celestially worthwhile they used to be.

Last but not least, the brunette and her older brother would be definitely the sole visitants to lament on the deceased middle-aged gentleman's tombstone.

Notwithstanding the circumstances, the medico was somehow the real incarnation of a lucky folk to have an easier, insurmountable access to the cemetery and bawl her abysses of a searing cry over the most memorable person in her life, besides her mother. Even though her sinisterly unimaginable disability to cease her pearly precious ability to motion her legs, it didn't stop her from her strong-willed nature to prevail the obstacles she had to reciprocate with her unalloyed suppleness.

In the wee hours of the afternoon after her lectures, the siblings managed to venture up in the local Hartford graveyard since the electrician was no longer overwhelmed with galore of work and arduous efforts spurting his exceeding tasks.

Divinely mirthful, balmy hues of the sunshine flooded smoothly the late April afternoon's prospect, whereas the gigantic sun mounted gently the baby blue sky. This time the baby blue sky was all alone in the company of the one of the nature's best friends, which arrantly smiled at every living being, the towering façades and trees, besides the affluent cluster of bushes and plants, dispersed to paint Hartford in the most luxurious nuances of what it offered to the general population. The spring unremittingly flourished by distributing pernicious mirth with the abstract medley of rainy and sunny days not only to the nobodies, but also the animals.

Although during the weekdays the graveyard wasn't hording a plain legion of mourners to manipulate their fingertips to daub each translucently crystal bead, scorching their lower eyelids, the Gray siblings' luck emulated unarguably massive. The other dose of good news for them was that they weren't keen enthusiasts of inhaling and exhaling softly the visitors' natural sweat, fat tears' saltiness and irrationally uttered despondent meows.

The humdrum ballad of the wheelchairs' wheels ghosting the soil and the concrete coated the background's noises, mingling with the inescapably honey-mouthed birdsongs and the perkily weak spring breeze, waltzing softly around the site. The heavenly pure air, amalgamating the controversial miscellany of withered and fresh flowers, soil and eerily pervasive smoke, accrued from the extinguished candles, pinched perkily Martha and Andy's tiny flexible nostrils like impish children.

Series of footsteps ghostwrote blatantly peaceful the concrete and soil until their categorical arrival beside the tombstone of their one of a kind family member they lost quite soon. Some folks would interpret them as the occasional nobodies, who cordially miss their defunct uncle, even though they weren't equipped with a bouquet or something else to exquisitely adorn beside the monument as well. It was the platonic duo's second visit to the boneyard. Bitter pouts crinkled upon to their naturally roseate, cherub lips as they were donned up in a thousand patterns of sorrow.

Miraculously, a handful of people populated the very boneyard as their age ranged between their seniors and midlives, lingering their crooked healthily olive-tanned fingers around the nosegays of lilacs, marigolds, and irises. Drenched bitterness profoundly steady submersed in their chubby cheeks.

"Some people will deem us as insane for visiting the cemetery per a few weeks." Stark aloofness stung the older man's northern lilt whilst manipulating to squint up his smoky quartz gems at his sister and his masculinely strong, meaty fingers channelizing the utter control over his younger sister's transport. In the interim, his younger sibling's heart clenched severely agonistic, due to the fact that shortly after she was retrieved from the hospital and no longer being able to walk on her own since her young childhood as if she was ultimately dependant on the electrician. Every time whenever the electrician had the chance to channelize the medico's emphatic transport or to fulfill peculiar things for her which she used to be a far cry from encountering gradual troubles, the megawatt gravity of her flimsy heart geared the intensifying throb in her chest and swathing it in the darkest garb.

"We aren't as insane as some folks, who are prone to stick to their guns, in spite of the others' actual perspectives for the regular graveyard visits." An inexorably soar smirk hitched up at the corner of the younger lady's naturally rose-coloured lip, ushering her pools of profoundly lithe brown to scour her brother's stone facial expression. Deep buoyancy deflated the medical undergraduate's northern lilt, stilling her elvish marbled hands to paw stably her armrest pad. The unmitigated contrast between the sibs spurted the fabulously thick cataract of black and white shades as the medical undergraduate illumined with the light pigment unlike the dark-haired gentleman. "We aren't them. We are visiting our uncle for second time for that month."

"Absolutely! Your point is certain for an average person, who doesn't perceive the graveyard as their friends' house for regular house parties."

"Let's not forget that some people deem the funerals as a special ceremony by eating, drinking and money talks, bullshit walks."

"Those folks are definitely messed up!" Meantime, the older man's strawberry-coloured tongue fiercely iched, struggling to refrain from purring a bluntly guttural, cold-bloodedly jovial chuckle as the brunette joined him boldly.

"No shit, Andy! I recall so far that once that bastard pushed my mother towards the train by manually killing her," Within less than a minute, the jovial chuckles no longer permeated efficiently infective around the place, consequently bearing a semblance of a bone-chillingly murky cloudy day and anticipating audaciously for the fat storm to startle the sensitive part of the general population. "Later that day, he flumped on the chair and boozing a handful of scotches of an ace Jim Bean whiskey in the kitchen." A cold-heartedly efficient, jaded sigh reciprocated daringly to the Martha's unmitigated reaction to her vague memories and the other reliable source she obtained her utter trust to Sebastian's narration many years ago. It wasn't a child's play what her wild imagination to gear up the deposited wad of narrations and intuition to have daredevil access to the staged events a handful of decades ago. The truth was always somewhere in the middle, regardless what kind of versions individual would circulate to the absolute reality and the recipient. "He ended up in his cups. I mean like as drunk as a skunk. How foul of him!" The stark sonority of the flashing images of the realm of her solemnly trusted memories and Sebastian's narration stilled the vigorous rhythm of the buzz, invading ferociously her hurricane of thoughts. Severe execration frizzled vigorously the platonic pairing's facades once they maintained an intimately adequate distance with the tombstone of the middle-aged gentleman. It still haunted demandingly Martha at the thought of her biological father extolling his manual homicide with the undeniably unappeasable intoxication, sweetening his tongue tip like the thickly coated with diversity of poisons a rogue's steel daggers' edges.

"It is still unbelievable what he did to your mother, and, most of all," Rigid knuckles unabatingly rippled on the electrician's mammoth fleshy fists whilst managing to dart his strawberry-coloured tongue to thoughtfully lick his upper and lower pale-pinkish lip momentarily. The medico's smirk dissipated rabidly rapid when their mere colloquy light-footedly inflated in a dramatic revelation about the nefarious psychopath. "His fucking growling ego to overlook what he did to one of his relatives by celebrating it as if it is his friend's birthday. I wish I had another father than him. Or rather, never being a born!" Seconds before muffling the dryly sardonic, blunt snigger, subsequently a solidly salty lump seethed Andy's Adam apple. Gargantuan wad of powerful tension built unendingly in the electrician's outstandingly shadowy retort and overwhelmed him with great deal of brilliant compassion for his sibling and the dynamic roller coaster ride she was able to trance. Notwithstanding the circumstance, he eventually fathomed what they actually shared in common. They both lost their mothers, despite the different timelines of their haughtily evocative losses.

"No! Andy!" Diminishing deftly the decibels of the frustrated growl, foaming inexorably barbaric her chapped pink mouth, whereas her iron-willed attempts to maneuver her elvish white-knuckled hand's spidery fingers to creep on the older gentleman's rigid ripples, laminating his knuckles. The grasp abraded pretty obstinately as if the juvenile woman's intentions didn't emulate to the false hopes and deluging the dark-haired gentleman with scarce self-love and self-confidence as well. Creamy fingertips faintly drummed against the stiff highlands of the fist's anatomy. "No! Don't say it! Just never utter it, Andy!" Manipulating to incline a femininely dark thin eyebrow, freshly childlike blush banefully ominous thundered abruptly her well-sculptured, balmy cheeks. "I absolutely comprehend you that carrion is the reason why we were separated as sibs for a long time, but there is always another alternative to have a fresh start."

"What sort of fresh start do you mean?"

"You are pretty aware of it, you know!" Sprawling a bloody-mindedly wry smile across her chapped mouth, meantime, the electrician registered to bob his throat to swig arduously tiresome the lump, encumbering the fleshy muscles. Shooting one another cheerful glances for a split second to abrade their spine-chillingly strong-willed eye contact the slyness was green and vibrantly tinted venomously the brunette's playful response. "It is not just to move out, living somewhere else. They won't mistake you for that carrion's scion."

"Did you intentionally mean to change my name?"

"No shit! Your last name." Registering to swat affably his hand, emboldened sympathetically the electrician to rein off from one of his recent burdens. Taking after his last birth name which truly belonged to the infamous serial killer and his family. Coated with the unpleasantly thick, sticky layer of notoriety chased even the duo. They couldn't even live their own lives serenely without mulling ethereally timeless what the others may think of them, reckoning their initial impressions which weren't arrantly surpassing the conflicting speculations. "Cayden Gray is the urban legend of Vermont. They don't give a shit if you are a teacher or the next Marilyn Monroe. They will deem you as a total disgrace for having his last name."

"I know right." As the twains of their smoky quartz gems landed on the grave that was sufficiently large for an average monument, belonging not only to the former mortal and his figure's remnants, but also his relatives to honor his demise for a certain quantity of time, they incredibly admired the marble architecture. "I know what you exactly mean. Some people who had carried the tremendous burden of one of their family members' outlaw deeds, they didn't have other choice except changing their names so that to not pay additionally for something they were little to none involved at all."

"Exactly! I have thought of changing my last name, howsoever, since I am not all alone in that situation," The genuinely morbific sentiment of not being exceedingly isolated along the strangers, consequently contaminated his vortex of thoughts with opulence of delusionally feasible dream scenarios of the Italian compatriot hiding somewhere. "Well," Shrugging his broadly muscly shoulders at his brief rhetoricity. "It will save us from plenty of troubles." Then, Andy retired to the marble architecture to chuck leniently the ledger as he channelized to hunker lower down whilst his chin contacted the lukewarm stone, pronging his bare skin of his jaw mapped with thick wire of stubble with the natural coolness of the monument. It felt like a warm, consoling hug between the living being and the new home of the former mortal.

\- A Day Later or So -

\- 29th of April, 1966 -

Once the day prior slowly but surely bled into the imminent daily episode and perennially deft pace the elapsing time ghostwrote, thereafter Martha decided to pay a visit to Gus Furmanek's office to sunder a tad of her relevantly leisure consulting with a professional lawyer. Lectures no longer were part of her Friday schedule as they were eventually executed. The arrant motive behind her dauntless visit to a lawyer's office was to assemble sufficient quantity of information and assimilating immediately the procedure of changing her name, or rather, saving the electrician's time to encounter courageously one of the most competent attorneys in Hartford, in order to change his last name.

As soon as Martha ventured up inside the one-story building of the famous lawyer, thereafter the vista of a handful of eagerly anticipating clients in the hallway and planting their stiff rears on the convenient crimson armchairs. A couple of acrylic paintings prominently hung up on the freshly painted in the pale nuances of yellow walls. A handful of coffee tables were rather awfully spectacular additions to accompany the armchairs as a rich pile of magazines and the daily newspapers accumulated the lightweight entities and could entertain the visitants until it was high time for them to venture up in the office at last. Two casement windows embroidered the palish yellow walls and inching the double lackered door, therefore burnishing the hallway in its comfy gilded mantle to alleviate the eagerly anticipating nobodies.

The faces of the strangers fogged the brunette with their inflexible lassitude as if a lethally morbid epidemy bashed heavily their facial expressions. The different tones of gray unconquerably mottled the monotonous atmosphere, fashionably girdling the strangers with their plain spirits.

During her stringent discipline accommodated to the medico's very nature and smoothing her youthful restlessness, she manipulated to readjust her seating posture on her wheelchair as her huge rotund cinnamon brown abysses lingered recklessly emotionless on the other clients of the lawyer. The incessant bounce of her youthfully long, yet deplorably clung almost to each other legs elaborated the unevenly humdrum noises.

Perhaps the Italian compatriot's younger daughter could be interpreted as majestically nervous. A childish nervousness tinged the very vista of her petite frame's anatomy, due to the fact she hasn't ever kept in touch with a lawyer to instruct her on unfamiliar exemplars, which were eventually legitimately accomplishable. The unnerving tick of the wall clock tingled alarming tones in the corridor as if it were the sole life-like sound to revive the general atmosphere of a still-functioning facility.

Within an hour of authentic discipline and unimaginable self-control, it was high time the juvenile lady to venture up in the site shortly after the alarming tones of the infamous door squeak caught her off guard as her cinnamon brown chasms frequently perused the bold ink of the daily newspapers' front page. The interesting about the paper exemplar which was distributed to an enormous mass of the passionate readers of journals, it submerged them with abstractive diversity of outrageously unbelievable and unsurprising news whether entertaining them, or otherwise, giving them frigid creeps.

The jubilant lilt of the Polish compatriot tingled angelic anthems into the brunette's petite amenable ears, puncturing his formally halfhearted declaims to his last visitors who encumbered his free time with their once silver murk, fatly obscuring the answers they are looking for.

"I am genuinely blissful to help you, Ms. Clarkson!" In the meanwhile, the Polish compatriot's inexorably humdrum, masculine oxfords' click slithered gingerly the concrete, whereas a couple of masculinely meaty, nimble fingers cradled the doorknob and gentlemanly stepping aside to award the widow with plenty of spaces to retreat from the building. A stringently broad, yet unspeakably beaming smile stitched nimbly the corners of his baby pinkish oral slit. The petite frame of the widow paced sluggishly towards the front door, while maneuvering her pools of gracefully vibrant lapis lazuli spearing the blond's tall frame.

"I would like to express my gratitude for it once again, Mr. Furmanek! I am wishing you a wonderful day."

"Goodbye, ma'am!" Even though Martha's lacking keenness to be aware of the nobodies' formal interaction with the attorney and their confidential discussions, therefore her long slim fingers registered to bedaub the silver wheels. A frigidly unexpressive pout twisted across her refreshingly young-looking complexion, wearing a thousand patterns of pure neutrality to not articulate her stance as either angelically friendly or infernally antagonistic. "Hello there, young lady! You seem quite new here."

"Hello, Mr. Furmanek!" Managing to quirk quizzically an eyebrow at his new client how she had never paid a visit to the facility to ask for his word on peculiar legitimately questions in tense details, he delightfully accepted her in his site whilst the series of wheelchairs' wheels slithered boisterously against the concrete floor. Miraculously, the medico dawdled up her prudence to outweigh her propulsive strikingness. "I am Martha Gray. It is very good to see you."

"I am cordially sorry for not being aware of your name, Ms. Gray!" Seconds later when the door swung shut promptly, the platonic duo traded each other authoritatively polite handshakes as they maintained an adequately stable eye contact. The hoarsely girlish, unnerving giggle of the young lady articulated her veritable prudence, speaking volumes about her abstractly deep persona and her initial interaction with Gus. "At least, I am seriously pleased to have the chance to help a young lady like you since you are here," When Gus and Martha ushered to retain an appropriate distance in the range of not many inches at least, the older gentleman's long stiff fingers reached for his glass of partly pooled with refreshingly translucent liquid to take a wary sip to hydrate his dry throat. "You have questions. You are in a jam which can be solved in a New York minute."

First and foremost, not many comfy regal scarlet armchairs embellished the site, paired with the labor desk which carried the weight of a beige retro phone, chaotically sorted a profuse heap of files and a pair, a fountain pen of conservative eyeglasses. The pleasantly ventilated sunny climate of the room sheathed the only habitants with profusion of vague warmness lacing t heir exposed epidermis. Furthermore, the portrait of the popular advocate sumptuously ornamented the wall beyond his frail skeleton. Last but not least, the virulently pervasive fragrance of his masculine cologne permeated past the juvenile lady's tender button nose.

"I have a grave problem," Then the medical undergraduate maneuvered her elvish hands to grasp steadily the armrest pads of her transport, while her piercingly unambiguous gaze pronged the pair of crystally warm lapis lazuli bijous. A bountiful brininess powdered her femininely delicate facial attributes as if her vernally ineluctable jim-jams seized forcefully her tense muscles that formed her facial expressions and body language's true formulation. "I don't know if I am doing it either for my brother or myself," Meantime, the blond managed to dump his glass of translucently lucid liquid on top of his bureau and surveying in the corner of his gaze his recent client. The vibrantly merry sunshine's big-boned blanket comfortably swaddled the brunette and the blond. "Or both of us." The bright contrast of the vibrant sunshine and the sulkily self-conscious medical undergraduate filtered the room's ambiance in variety of shades.

"Every young individual like you is wet behind the ears. You are always bubbling with diversity of questions about the world that encircles us."

"I would like to know the procedure of changing a name, regardless if it is the last name or your first one. I know so far that it is not a child's play one at all. Furthermore, I would like to change my name, in fact, I don't want to have any associations with my biological father who is a serial killer."

"I completely understand your versatile motives, Ms. Gray! First and foremost, you have to pay a fee that is approximately at the range of 150 and 200 dollars to file your name change petition in court."

"I don't get it. Where do I have to obtain that petition to change my name as a legal document for the court and subsequently paying for it?"

"If you aren't actually feeling like to go in the court just to change your name, therefore you only need technically to use your chosen name to assume it and can do it legally."

"All right! Do I need something else, besides this?"

"The simplest way to change your name is by either being divorced or married." Clapping joyfully his hands and then knitting his strongly slim fingers, great deal of pure bewilderment straightforwardly etched Martha's delicate facial attributes instantaneously. "And if you are about to change your name, it shouldn't contain whether a trademark, any obscene elements or otherwise belonging to a celebrity." Clearing gruffly her throat shortly after muffling the blatantly bleated cough, Martha honed sharply her ears as she was warily eavesdropping the legal procedure of the name change, besides assembling slowly but surely the canvas of the discretely unseen details of the landscape which was vaguely brushed. "Or doing it for other atrocious purposes such as fraud. I am unsure if you have any criminal history, nevertheless, you are the person to tell me since it can be intentionally just for show." Narrowing his huge rotund azure depths at his client during the haphazardness of the raspy timbres' hardwearing elevation in his wry caution, the notorious serial killer's daughter heart raced at the bitter flavor of the sequel of the attorney's monologue. Once the cheerlessly brisk amplification of the uneven heart thuds in her ribcage, a soar lump hectically adroit thickened her feminine Adam apple as if the miniature spiders' vindictively milky webs deprived the divinely beatific freedom of their captives.

"Within a week or so, I am going to face charges for harassment as I forged the sexual assault."

"Well, it isn't aggravating your situation since there is no felony in your criminal record, Ms. Gray!" All of a sudden, sore incredulity briskly whetted the Polish-Canadian compatriot whilst his front ivory teeth leniently gnawed on his bottom baby pinkish lip. "It seems that you won't have any problems with changing your name, although you aren't married yet and it is going happen to you sooner or later. We just have to solemnly believe it."

\- A Handful of Days Later or So -

\- 1st of May, 1966 -

"There is nothing wrong with being on fire to be a church volunteer, Ms. Gray!" The suddenness of the raspy timbre elegantly tinged the middle-aged devotional clergyman whilst stilling his brutally honest sapphire bijous examining studiously the very body language of the medical undergraduate, whom he exchanged with a couple of inches distance. A seraphically benevolent smile tugged at the corner of his chapped pink oral slit. "Therefore, you have to be quite regular in your activities and visits there, in order to be rewarded with your position and ending up with promising awards for your sheer diligence."

Just a handful of days later, the dynamic roller coaster ride of the medical undergraduate ruthlessly harmonized, in spite of the fact that she must pay a visit to the court for the forthcoming case. A couple of events prominently marked their apogee in the last few days as if it were their natural phenomenon to tint the atmosphere.

Shortly after the brunette took counsel from the one of the most glamorously conversant and quick-witted lawyers in the small city of Vermont, subsequently she wobbled up to transfer the assimilated sufficient veritable information of name change to her older sibling and resuming her life. Following mousily the creamy rhythm of her ordinary young adult lifestyle with her persistently contentious studies, yoga classes and regularly beholding her older sibling, the position as a volunteer in the local chapel mesmerized her with the great deal of phenomenally helpfulness and meaningfulness she painted her daily routine and transmuting it in a brighter vignette.

"I just wanted to do something more meaningful whilst struggling with those university studies and other stuff that overwhelms me."

"I am fairly appreciating your sheer enthusiasm, Miss. I am genuinely overwhelmed with your versatility and maturity for such a spectacular young woman like you."

Suddenly, the monumentally lacquered church door caught off guard the both adults, whereas the monotonously high-pitched church bells tingled alarming tones into their ears and contaminating their softly marbled epidermis with rich crop of icy horripilation. Little did they know who the forthcoming visitant of house of God could it be. Or rather the hallowed chasm, where the zealots, priests, nuns and the religion's followers attended as if it were like drinking a glass of water per a handful of hours.

✨What are your genuine thoughts of Martha from this chapter? ✨

🌸Do you think that Martha is capable of redeeming herself or not at all? 🌸

✨Who might be the chapel's next visitor in the final scene to accompany Father Kellan Teagan and Martha? ✨

**Author's Note: I am candidly apologising for the slow updates, hoasoever, I struggled with author's block and I am lastly back. I know this chapter is immensely bland, nevertheless, hopefully you like and enjoy it. ❤❤**


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